University of Virginia Library

IV. Part IV.

83
CHILD MAURICE


264

Childe Maurice

CHILD MAURICE—A

[_]

Percy MS., p. 346; Hales and Furnivall, II, 502.

1

Childe Maurice hunted ithe siluer wood,
He hunted itt round about,
And noebodye that he ffound therin,
Nor none there was with-out.

2

[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
And he tooke his siluer combe in his hand,
To kembe his yellow lockes.

3

He sayes, Come hither, thou litle ffoot-page,
That runneth lowlye by my knee,
Ffor thou shalt goe to Iohn Stewards wiffe
And pray her speake with mee.

4

[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
I, and greete thou doe that ladye well,
Euer soe well ffroe mee.

5

‘And, as itt ffalls, as many times
As knotts beene knitt on a kell,

265

Or marchant men gone to leeue London,
Either to buy ware or sell.

6

‘And, as itt ffalles, as many times
As any hart can thinke,
Or schoole-masters are in any schoole-house,
Writting with pen and inke:
Ffor if I might, as well as shee may,
This night I wold with her speake.

7

‘And heere I send her a mantle of greene,
As greene as any grasse,
And bidd her come to the siluer wood,
To hunt with Child Maurice.

8

‘And there I send her a ring of gold,
A ring of precyous stone,
And bidd her come to the siluer wood,
Let ffor no kind of man.’

9

One while this litle boy he yode,
Another while he ran,
Vntill he came to Iohn Stewards hall,
I-wis he neuer blan.

10

And of nurture the child had good,
Hee ran vp hall and bower ffree,
And when he came to this lady ffaire,
Sayes, God you saue and see!

11

‘I am come ffrom Ch[i]ld Maurice,
A message vnto thee;
And Child Maurice, he greetes you well,
And euer soe well ffrom mee.

12

‘And, as itt ffalls, as oftentimes
As knotts beene knitt on a kell,
Or marchant-men gone to leeue London,
Either ffor to buy ware or sell.

13

‘And as oftentimes he greetes you well
As any hart can thinke,
Or schoolemasters [are] in any schoole,
Wryting with pen and inke.

14

‘And heere he sends a mantle of greene,
As greene as any grasse,
And he bidds you come to the siluer wood,
To hunt with Child Maurice.

15

‘And heere he sends you a ring of gold,
A ring of the precyous stone;
He prayes you to come to the siluer wood,
Let ffor no kind of man.’

16

‘Now peace, now peace, thou litle ffoot-page,
Ffor Christes sake, I pray thee!
Ffor if my lord heare one of these words,
Thou must be hanged hye!’

17

Iohn Steward stood vnder the castle-wall,
And he wrote the words euerye one,
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

18

And he called vnto his hors-keeper,
‘Make readye you my steede!’
I, and soe hee did to his chamberlaine,
‘Make readye thou my weede!’

19

And he cast a lease vpon his backe,
And he rode to the siluer wood,
And there he sought all about,
About the siluer wood.

20

And there he ffound him Child Maurice
Sitting vpon a blocke,
With a siluer combe in his hand,
Kembing his yellow locke[s.]
[OMITTED]

21

But then stood vp him Child Maurice,
And sayd these words trulye:
‘I doe not know your ladye,’ he said,
‘If that I doe her see.’

22

He sayes, How now, how now, Child Maurice?
Alacke, how may this bee?
Ffor thou hast sent her loue-tokens,
More now then two or three.

23

‘Ffor thou hast sent her a mantle of greene,
As greene as any grasse,
And bade her come to the siluer woode,
To hunt with Child Maurice.

24

‘And thou [hast] sent her a ring of gold,
A ring of precyous stone,
And bade her come to the siluer wood,
Let ffor noe kind of man.

25

‘And by my ffaith, now, Child Maurice,
The tone of vs shall dye!’

266

‘Now be my troth,’ sayd Child Maurice,
‘And that shall not be I.’

26

But hee pulled forth a bright browne sword,
And dryed itt on the grasse,
And soe ffast he smote att Iohn Steward,
I-wisse he neuer [did] rest.

27

Then hee pulled fforth his bright browne sword,
And dryed itt on his sleeue,
And the ffirst good stroke Iohn Stewart stroke,
Child Maurice head he did cleeue.

28

And he pricked itt on his swords poynt,
Went singing there beside,
And he rode till he came to that ladye ffaire,
Wheras this ladye lyed.

29

And sayes, Dost thou know Child Maurice head,
If that thou dost itt see?
And lapp itt soft, and kisse itt offt,
Ffor thou louedst him better than mee.’

30

But when shee looked on Child Maurice head,
Shee neuer spake words but three:
‘I neuer beare no child but one,
And you haue slaine him trulye.’

31

Sayes, Wicked be my merrymen all,
I gaue meate, drinke, and clothe!
But cold they not haue holden me
When I was in all that wrath!

32

‘Ffor I haue slaine one of the curteousest knights
That euer bestrode a steed,
Soe haue I done one [of] the fairest ladyes
That euer ware womans weede!’

Child Noryce

CHILD MAURICE—B

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 255; Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 282. From the singing of Widow McCormick, Paisley, January 19, 1825. Learned by her of an old woman in Dumbarton: Motherwell's Note Book, fol. 4.

1

Child Noryce is a clever young man,
He wavers wi the wind;
His horse was silver-shod before,
With the beaten gold behind.

2

He called to his little man John,
Saying, You don't see what I see;
For O yonder I see the very first woman
That ever loved me.

3

‘Here is a glove, a glove,’ he said,
‘Lined with the silver grey;
You may tell her to come to the merry greenwood,
To speak to Child Nory.

4

‘Here is a ring, a ring,’ he says,
‘It's all gold but the stane;
You may tell her to come to the merry greenwood,
And ask the leave o nane.’

5

‘So well do I love your errand, my master,
But far better do I love my life;
O would ye have me go to Lord Barnard's castle,
To betray away his wife?’

6

‘O don't I give you meat,’ he says,
‘And don't I pay you fee?
How dare you stop my errand?’ he says;
‘My orders you must obey.’

7

O when he came to Lord Bernard's castle,
He tinkled at the ring;
Who was as ready as Lord Barnard himself
To let this little boy in?

8

‘Here is a glove, a glove,’ he says,
‘Lined with the silver grey;
You are bidden to come to the merry greenwood,
To speak to Child Nory.

9

‘Here is a ring, a ring,’ he says,
‘It's all gold but the stane;
You are bidden to come to the merry greenwood,
And ask the leave o nane.’

267

10

Lord Barnard he was standing by,
And an angry man was he:
‘O little did I think there was a lord in the world
My lady loved but me!’

11

O he dressed himself in the holland smock,
And garments that was gay,
And he is away to the merry green-wood,
To speak to Child Nory.

12

Child Noryce sits on yonder tree,
He whistles and he sings:
‘O wae be to me,’ says Child Noryce,
‘Yonder my mother comes!’

13

Child Noryce he came off the tree,
His mother to take off the horse:
‘Och alace, alace,’ says Child Noryce,
‘My mother was neer so gross!’

14

Lord Barnard he had a little small sword,
That hung low down by his knee;
He cut the head off Child Noryce,
And put the body on a tree.

15

And when he came home to his castell,
And to his ladie's hall,
He threw the head into her lap,
Saying, Lady, there's a ball!

16

She turned up the bloody head,
She kissed it frae cheek to chin:
‘Far better do I love this bloody head
Than all my royal kin.

17

‘When I was in my father's castel,
In my virginity,
There came a lord into the North,
Gat Child Noryce with me.’

18

‘O wae be to thee, Lady Margaret,’ he sayd,
‘And an ill death may you die;
For if you had told me he was your son,
He had neer been slain by me.’

Bob Norice

CHILD MAURICE—C

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 510, from the singing of Mrs Storie, wife of William Storie, laborer, Lochwinnoch. A song of Mrs Storie's grandmother.

1

Bob Norice is to the grein-wud gane,
He is awa wi the wind;
His horse is siller-shod afore,
In the shynand gowd ahind.

2

He said unto his wee boy John,
I sie what ye dinna sie;
I see the [first] woman that I eer luvit,
Or ever luvit me.

3

‘Gae tak to hir this pair o gluvis,
They're o the siller-gray,
And tell her to cum to the merrie grein-wud
An speik to Bob Norice.

4

‘Gae tak to her this gay gowd ring,
And it's aw gowd but the stane,
And tell her to cum to the merrie grein-wud,
And ask the leive o nane.

5

‘Gae tak to her this braw manteil,
It's a' silk but the sleive,
And tell her to cum to the merrie green-wud,
And ax nae bauld Barnet's leive.’

6

‘I daurna gang to Lord Barnet's castel,
I daurna gang for my lyfe;
I daurna gang to Lord Barnet's castell,
To twyne him o his wife.’

7

‘Do I nae pay you gowd?’ he said,
‘Do I nae pay you fee?
How daur you stand my bidding, Sir,
Whan I bid you to flee?’

8

‘Gif I maun gang to Lord Barnet's castel,
Sae sair agane my will,
I vow a vow, and I do protest,
It sall be dune for ill.’

9

But whan he came to Lord Barnet's castel
He tinklet at the ring;
Tha war nane sae ready as Lord Barnet himsell
To let the wee calland in.

10

‘What news, what news, my bonnie wee boy?
What news hae ye to me?’
‘Nae news, nae news, Lord Barnet,’ he said,
‘But your ladie I fain would see.

268

11

‘Here is a pair o gluves to her,
Thay'r o the silver gray;
And tell her to cum to the merrie green-wud,
And speik to Bob Norice.

12

‘Here is a gay gowd ring to her,
It's aw gowd but the stane;
And she maun cum to the merrie green-wud,
And speir the leive o nane.

13

‘Here is a gay manteil to her,
It's aw silk but the sleive;
And she maun cum to the merrie grein-wud,
And ask not bauld Barnet's leive.’

14

Then out bespack the yellow nurse,
Wi the babie on her knee,
Sayand, Gif thay be cum frae Bob Norice,
They are welcum to me.

15

‘O haud your tung, ye yellow nurse,
Aloud an I heir ye lie;
For they're to Lord Barnet's lady,
I trew that this be she.’

16

Lord Barnet's to a dressing-room,
And buskt him in woman's array,
And he's awa to the merrie green-wud,
To speik to Bob Norrice.

17

Bob Norrice he sits on a tree,
He is whissland and singand;
Says, Merrie, merrie may my hert be,
I see my mither cumand.

18

Bob Norice he cam doun frae the trie,
To help his mother to licht fra her horss;
‘Och alace, alace,’ says Bob Norice,
‘My mither was neer sae gross!’

19

Lord Barnet had a not-brown sword,
That hung down by his knee,
And he has cut Bob Norice heid
Aff frae his fair bodie.

20

He tuke the bluidy head in his hand,
And he brocht it to the ha,
And flang it into his lady's lap,
Sayand, Lady, there is a ba!

21

She took the bluidy heid in her hand,
And kisst it frae cheik to chin,
Sayand, Better I lyke that weil faurit face
Nor aw my royal kin.

22

‘Whan I was in my father's bour,
A' in my dignity,
An Englis lord a visit came,
Gat Bob Norice wi me.’

23

Then out bespak Lord Barnet syne,
And a wae, wae man was he,
Sayand, Gif I had kent he was your son,
He wuld neer been killit be me.

Gill Morice

CHILD MAURICE—D

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 480, from the recitation of Widow Michael, a very old woman, as learned by her in Banffshire seventy years before. August, 1826.

1

Gill Morice stood in stable-door,
With red gold shined his weed;
A bonnie boy him behind,
Dressing a milk-white steed.

2

‘Woe's me for you, maister,
Your name it waxes wide;
It is not for your rich, rich robes,
Nor for your meikle pride,
But all is for yon lord's ladie,
She lives on Ithan side.’

3

‘Here's to thee, my bonnie wee boy,
That I pay meat and fee;
You will run on to Ithan side
An errand unto me.’

4

‘If ye gar me that errand run,
Sae sair against my will,
I'll make a vow, and keep it true,
I'll do your errand ill.’

5

‘I fear nae ill of thee, boy,
I fear nae ill of thee;
I fearna ill of my bonnie boy,
My sister's son are ye.

6

‘Ye'll tak here this green manteel,
It's lined with the frieze;

269

Ye'll bid her come to gude green-wood,
To talk with Gill Morice.

7

‘Ye'll tak here this sark o silk,
Her ain hand sewed the sleeve;
Ye'll bid her come to gude green-wood,
And ask not Burnard's leave.’

8

When he gade to Ithan side
They were hailing at the ba,
And four and twenty gay ladyes
They lookd ower castle wa.

9

‘God mak you safe, you ladies all,
God mak you safe and sure;
But Burnard's lady amang you all,
My errand is to her.

10

‘Ye'll tak here this green manteel,
It's a' lined wi the frieze;
Ye're bidden come to gude green-wood
And speak to Gill Morice.

11

‘Ye'll tak here this sark of silk,
Your ain hand sewed the sleeve;
Ye're bidden come to gude green-wood,
And ask not Burnard's leave.’

12

Up it stood the little nurice,
She winked with her ee:
‘Welcome, welcome, bonnie boy,
With luve-tidings to me.

13

‘Ye lie, ye lie, ye false nurice,
Sae loud's I hear ye lie;
It's to the lady of the house,
I'm sure ye are not shee.’

14

Then out and spoke him bold Burnard,
Behind the door stood he:
‘I'll go unto gude green-wood,
And see what he may be.

15

‘Come, bring to me the gowns of silk,
Your petticoats so small,
And I'll go on to gude green-wood,
I'll try with him a fall.’

16

Gill Morice stood in gude green-wood,
He whistled and he sang:
‘I think I see the woman come
That I have loved lang.’

17

‘What now, what now, ye Gill Morice,
What now, and how do ye?
How lang hae ye my lady luved?
This day come tell to me.’

18

‘First when I your lady loved,
In green-wood amang the thyme,
I wot she was my first fair love
Or ever she was thine.

19

‘First when I your lady loved,
In green-wood amang the flouirs,
I wot she was my first fair love
Or ever she was yours.’

20

He's taen out a lang, lang brand
That he was used to wear,
And he's taen aff Gill Morice head,
And put it on a spear:
The soberest boy in a' the court
Gill Morice head did bear.

21

He's put it in a braid basin,
And brocht it in the ha,
And laid it in his lady's lap;
Said, Lady, tak a ba!

22

‘Play ye, play ye, my lady,’ he said,
‘Play ye frae ha to bower;
Play ye wi Gill Morice head,
He was your paramour.’

23

‘He was not my paramour,
He was my son indeed;
I got him in my mother's bower,
And in my maiden-weed.

24

‘I got him in my mother's bower,
Wi meikle sin and shame;
I brocht him up in good green-wood,
Got mony a shower o rain.

25

‘But I will kiss his bluidy head,
And I will clap his chin;
I'll make a vow, and keep it true,
I'll never kiss man again.

26

‘Oftimes I by his cradle sat,
And fond to see him sleep;
But I may walk about his grave,
The saut tears for to weep.’

270

27

‘Bring cods, bring cods to my ladye,
Her heart is full of wae;’
‘None of your cods, Burnet,’ she says,
‘But lay me on the strae.’

28

‘Pox on you, my lady fair,
That wudna telled it me;
If I had known he was your son,
He had not been slain by me;
And for ae penny ye wud hae gien
I wud hae gien him three.’

29

‘Keep weel your land, Burnet,’ she said,
‘Your land and white monie;
There's land eneuch in Norroway
Lies heirless I wot the day.’

30

The one was killed in the mornin air,
His mother died at een,
And or the mornin bells was rung
The threesome were a' gane.

Chield Morice

CHILD MAURICE—E

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 165; Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 269. From the recitation of Mrs Thomson, Kilbarchan, seventy years of age, as learned from her mother at the Water of Leven, Dumbarton, when she was ten years old. March, 1825.

1

Chield Morrice was an earl's son,
His name it waxed wide;
It was nae for his parentage,
Nor yet his meikle pride,
But it was for a lady gay,
That lived on Carron side.

2

‘O Willie, my man, my errand gang,
And you maun rin wi speed;
When other boys run on their feet,
On horseback ye shall ride.

3

‘O master dear, I love you weel,
And I love you as my life,
But I will not go to Lord Barnard's ha,
For to tryst forth his wife.

4

‘For the baron he's a man of might,
He neer could bide a taunt,
And ye shall see or it be late
How meikle ye'll hae to vaunt.’

5

‘O you must rin my errand, Willie,
And you must rin wi speed,
And if you don't obey my high command
I'll gar your body bleed.

6

‘And here it is a gay manteel,
It's a' gowd but the hem;
Bid her come speak to Chield Morice,
Bring naebody but her lane.

7

‘And here it is a holland smock,
Her own hand sewed the sleeve;
Bid her come speak to Chield Morice,
Ask not the baron's leave.’

8

‘Since I must run this errand for you,
So sore against my will,
I've made a vow, and I'll keep it true,
It shall be done for ill.’

9

For he did not ask the porter's leave,
Tho he stood at the gate,
But straight he ran to the big hall,
Where great folk sat at meat.

10

‘Good hallow, gentle sir and dame,
My errand canna wait;
Dame, ye must go speak to Chield Morice.
Before it be too late.

11

‘And here it is a gay manteel,
It's a' goud but the hem;
Ye must come speak to Child Morice,
Bring nae body but your lane.

12

‘And here it is a holland smock,
Your ain hand sewed the sleeve;
You must come speak to Chield Morice,
Ask not the baron's leave.’

13

O aye she stamped wi her foot,
And winked wi her ee,
But a' that she could say or do,
Forbidden he wad na be.

14

‘It's surely to my bouir-woman,
It canna be to me:’
‘I brocht it to Lord Barnard's lady,
And I trow that thou art she.’

15

Out then spak the wylie nurse,
Wi the bairn just on her knee:

271

‘If this be come fra Chield Morice,
It's dear welcome to me.’

16

‘Thou lies, thou lies, thou wylie nurse,
Sae loud's I hear thee lie;
I brought it to Lord Barnard's lady,
And I trow thou binna she.’

17

Then up and rose him the bold baron,
And an angry man was he;
He took the table wi his foot,
And keppd it wi his knee,
Till silver cup and ezar dish
In flinders they did flee.

18

‘Go bring me one of thy cleeding,
That hings upon the pin,
And I'll awa to the good green-wood,
And crack wi your leman.’

19

‘I would have you stay at home, Lord Barnard,
I would have you stay at home;
Never wyte a man for violence douce
That never thought you wrong.’

20

And when he to the green-wood went,
No body saw he there
But Chield Morice, on a milk-white steed,
Combing down his yellow hair.

21

Chield Morice sat in the gay green-wood,
He whistled and he sang:
‘O what means a' thir folks coming?
My mother tarries lang.’

22

‘No wonder, no wonder, Chield Morice,’ he said,
‘My lady loved thee weel;
For the whitest bit of my body
Is blacker than thy heel.

23

‘But nevertheless now, Chield Morice,
For a' thy gay beautie,
O nevertheless, Chield Morice,
Thy head shall go with me.’

24

He had a rapier by his side,
Hung low down by his knee;
He struck Chield Morrice on the neck,
Till aff his head did flee.

25

Then he's taen up that bloody head,
And stuck it on a spear,
And the meanest man in a' his train
Gat Chield Morice head to bear.

26

The lady looked owre the castle-wa,
Wi meikle dool and down,
And there she saw Chield Morice head,
Coming trailing to the town.

27

But he's taen up this bluidy head,
And dashed it gainst the wa:
‘Come down, come down, you ladies fair,
And play at this foot-ba.’

28

Then she's taen up this bluidy head,
And she kissed it both cheek and chin:
‘I would rather hae a kiss o that bluidy head
Than a' thy earldom.

29

‘I got him in my father's bouir,
Wi meikle sin and shame,
And I brought him up in gay green-wood,
Beneath the heavy rain.

30

‘Many a day have I rockd thy cradle,
And fondly seen thee sleep,
But now I'll go about thy grave,
And sore, sore will I weep.’

31

‘O woe be to thee, thou wild woman,
And an ill deid may thou die!
For if ye had tauld me he was your son,
He should hae ridden and gane wi me.’

32

‘O hold your tongue, you bold baron,
And an ill death may ye die!
He had lands and rents enew of his ain,
He needed nane fra thee.’

33

‘Then I'll curse the hand that did the deed,
The heart that thought him ill,
The feet that carried me speedilie
This comely youth to kill.’

34

This lady she died gin ten o'clock,
Lord Barnard died gin twall,
And bonnie boy now, Sweet Willie,
What's come o him I canna tell.

272

Gil Morrice

CHILD MAURICE—F

[_]

a. Percy's Reliques, III, 93, 1765. b. Letter of T. Gray to Mason, June, 1757 (?): Gray's Works, ed. Gosse, II, 316.

1

Gil Morrice was an erles son,
His name it waxed wide;
It was nae for his great riches,
Nor yet his mickle pride,
Bot it was for a lady gay,
That livd on Carron side.

2

‘Whair sall I get a bonny boy,
That will win hose and shoen,
That will gae to Lord Barnard's ha,
And bid his lady cum?

3

‘And ye maun rin errand, Willie,
And ye may rin wi pride;
When other boys gae on their foot,
On horseback ye sall ride.’

4

‘O no! Oh no! my master dear,
I dare nae for my life;
I'll no gae to the bauld baron's,
For to triest furth his wife.’

5

‘My bird Willie, my boy Willie,
My dear Willie,’ he sayd,
‘How can ye strive against the stream?
For I sall be obeyd.’

6

‘Bot, O my master dear,’ he cry'd,
‘In grene-wod ye're your lain;
Gi owre sic thochts, I walde ye rede,
For fear ye should be tain.’

7

‘Haste, haste, I say, gae to the ha,
Bid hir cum here wi speid;
If ye refuse my heigh command,
I'll gar your body bleid.

8

‘Gae bid hir take this gay mantel,
'Tis a' gowd but the hem;
Bid hir cum to the gude grene-wode,
And bring nane bot hir lain.

9

‘And there it is, a silken sarke,
Hir ain hand sewd the sleive;
And bid hir cum to Gill Morice,
Speir nae bauld baron's leave.’

10

‘Yes, I will gae your black errand,
Though it be to your cost;
Sen ye by me will nae be warnd,
In it ye sall find frost.

11

‘The baron he's a man of might,
He neir could bide to taunt;
As ye will see, before it's nicht,
How sma ye hae to vaunt.

12

‘And sen I maun your errand rin,
Sae sair against my will,
I'se mak a vow, and keip it trow,
It sall be done for ill.’

13

And when he came to broken brigue,
He bent his bow and swam;
And when [he] came to grass growing,
Set down his feet and ran.

14

And when he came to Barnard's ha,
Would neither chap nor ca,
Bot set his bent bow to his breist,
And lichtly lap the wa.

15

He wauld nae tell the man his errand,
Though he stude at the gait;
Bot straiht into the ha he cam,
Whair they were set at meit.

16

‘Hail! hail! my gentle sire and dame,
My message winna waite;
Dame, ye maun to the gude grene-wod,
Before that it be late.

17

‘Ye're bidden tak this gay mantel,
'Tis a' gowd bot the hem;
You maun gae to the gude grene-wode,
Evn by your sel alane.

18

‘And there it is, a silken sarke,
Your ain hand sewd the sleive;
Ye maun gae speik to Gill Morice,
Speir nae bauld baron's leave.’

19

The lady stamped wi hir foot,
And winked wi hir ee;
But a' that she coud say or do,
Forbidden he wad nae bee.

20

‘It's surely to my bowr-woman;
It neir could be to me:’
‘I brocht it to Lord Barnard's lady;
I trow that ye be she.’

273

21

Then up and spack the wylie nurse,
The bairn upon hir knee:
‘If it be cum frae Gill Morice,
It's deir welcum to mee.’

22

‘Ye leid, ye leid, ye filthy nurse,
Sae loud's I heire ye lee;
I brocht it to Lord Barnard's lady;
I trow ye be nae shee.’

23

Then up and spack the bauld baron,
An angry man was hee;
He's tain the table wi his foot,
Sae has he wi his knee,
Till siller cup and ezar dish
In flinders he gard flee.

24

‘Gae bring a robe of your cliding,
That hings upon the pin,
And I'll gae to the gude grene-wode,
And speik wi your lemman.’

25

‘O bide at hame, now, Lord Barnard,
I warde ye bide at hame;
Neir wyte a man for violence
That neir wate ye wi nane.’

26

Gil Morice sate in gude grene-wode,
He whistled and he sang:
‘O what mean a' the folk coming?
My mother tarries lang.’

27

The baron came to the grene-wode,
Wi mickle dule and care,
And there he first spied Gill Morice,
Kameing his yellow hair.

28

‘Nae wonder, nae wonder, Gill Morice,
My lady loed thee weel;
The fairest part of my body
Is blacker than thy heel.

29

‘Yet neir the less now, Gill Morice,
For a' thy great bewty,
Ye's rew the day ye eir was born;
That head sall gae wi me.’

30

Now he has drawn his trusty brand,
And slaited on the strae,
And thro Gill Morice fair body
He's gard cauld iron gae.

31

And he has tain Gill Morice head,
And set it on a speir;
The meanest man in a' his train
Has gotten that head to bear.

32

And he has tain Gill Morice up,
Laid him across his steid,
And brocht him to his painted bowr.
And laid him on a bed.

33

The lady sat on castil-wa,
Beheld baith dale and doun,
And there she saw Gill Morice head
Cum trailing to the toun.

34

‘Far better I loe that bluidy head,
Bot and that yellow hair,
Than Lord Barnard, and a' his lands,
As they lig here and thair.’

35

And she has tain hir Gill Morice,
And kissd baith mouth and chin:
‘I was once as fow of Gill Morice
As the hip is o the stean.

36

‘I got ye in my father's house,
Wi mickle sin and shame;
I brocht thee up in gude green-wode,
Under the heavy rain.

37

‘Oft have I by thy cradle sitten,
And fondly seen thee sleip;
Bot now I gae about thy grave,
The saut tears for to weip.’

38

And syne she kissd his bluidy cheik,
And syne his bluidy chin:
‘O better I loe my Gill Morice
Than a' my kith and kin!’

39

‘Away, away, ye ill woman,
And an il deith mait ye dee!
Gin I had kend he'd bin your son,
He'd neir bin slain for mee.’

274

CHILD MAURICE—G

[_]

Jamieson's Popular Ballads, I, 18; Jamieson, in The Scots Magazine, 1803, LXV, 698, stanzas 1, 3.

1

Gil Morrice sat in silver wood,
He whistled and he sang:
‘Whar sall I get a bonny boy
My errand for to gang?’

2

He ca'd his foster-brither Willie:
‘Come, win ye hose and shoon,
And gae unto Lord Barnard's ha,
And bid his lady come.’
[OMITTED]

3

And she has taen the bloody head,
And cast it i the brim,
Syne gathered up her robes o green,
And fast she followed him.

276

84
BONNY BARBARA ALLAN

Bonny Barbara Allan; or, Sir John Grehme and Barbara Allan

BONNY BARBARA ALLAN—A

[_]

a. The Tea-Table Miscellany, IV, 46, ed. 1740; here from the London edition of 1763, p. 343. b. Percy's Reliques, III, 131, ed. 1765, “with a few conjectural emendations from a written copy.”

1

It was in and about the Martinmas time,
When the green leaves were a falling,
That Sir John Græme, in the West Country,
Fell in love with Barbara Allan.

2

He sent his men down through the town,
To the place where she was dwelling:
‘O haste and come to my master dear,
Gin ye be Barbara Allan.’

3

O hooly, hooly rose she up,
To the place where he was lying,

277

And when she drew the curtain by,
‘Young man, I think you're dying.’

4

‘O it's I'm sick, and very, very sick,
And 'tis a' for Barbara Allan:’
‘O the better for me ye's never be,
Tho your heart's blood were a spilling.

5

‘O dinna ye mind, young man,’ said she,
‘When ye was in the tavern a drinking,
That ye made the healths gae round and round,
And slighted Barbara Allan?’

6

He turnd his face unto the wall,
And death was with him dealing:
‘Adieu, adieu, my dear friends all,
And be kind to Barbara Allan.’

7

And slowly, slowly raise she up,
And slowly, slowly left him,
And sighing said, she coud not stay,
Since death of life had reft him.

8

She had not gane a mile but twa,
When she heard the dead-bell ringing,
And every jow that the dead-bell geid,
It cry'd, Woe to Barbara Allan!

9

‘O mother, mother, make my bed!
O make it saft and narrow!
Since my love died for me to-day,
I'll die for him to-morrow.’

Barbara Allen's Cruelty

BONNY BARBARA ALLAN—B

[_]

a. Roxburghe Ballads, II, 25; reprint of the Ballad Society, III, 433. b. Roxburghe Ballads, III, 522. c. A broadside formerly belonging to Bishop Percy. d. Percy's Reliques, 1765, III, 125.

1

In Scarlet Town, where I was bound,
There was a fair maid dwelling,
Whom I had chosen to be my own,
And her name it was Barbara Allen.

2

All in the merry month of May,
When green leaves they was springing,
This young man on his death-bed lay,
For the love of Barbara Allen.

3

He sent his man unto her then,
To the town where she was dwelling:
‘You must come to my master dear,
If your name be Barbara Allen.

4

‘For death is printed in his face,
And sorrow's in him dwelling,
And you must come to my master dear,
If your name be Barbara Allen.’

5

‘If death be printed in his face,
And sorrow's in him dwelling,
Then little better shall he be
For bonny Barbara Allen.’

6

So slowly, slowly she got up,
And so slowly she came to him,
And all she said when she came there,
Young man, I think you are a dying.

7

He turnd his face unto her then:
‘If you be Barbara Allen,
My dear,’ said he, ‘come pitty me,
As on my death-bed I am lying.’

8

‘If on your death-bed you be lying,
What is that to Barbara Allen?
I cannot keep you from [your] death;
So farewell,’ said Barbara Allen.

9

He turnd his face unto the wall,
And death came creeping to him:
‘Then adieu, adieu, and adieu to all,
And adieu to Barbara Allen!’

10

And as she was walking on a day,
She heard the bell a ringing,
And it did seem to ring to her
‘Unworthy Barbara Allen.’

11

She turnd herself round about,
And she spy'd the corps a coming:
‘Lay down, lay down the corps of clay,
That I may look upon him.’

12

And all the while she looked on,
So loudly she lay laughing,
While all her friends cry'd [out] amain,
‘Unworthy Barbara Allen!’

278

13

When he was dead, and laid in grave,
Then death came creeping to she:
‘O mother, mother, make my bed,
For his death hath quite undone me.

14

‘A hard-hearted creature that I was,
To slight one that lovd me so dearly;
I wish I had been more kinder to him,
The time of his life when he was near me.’

15

So this maid she then did dye,
And desired to be buried by him,
And repented her self before she dy'd,
That ever she did deny him.

Barbara Allan

BONNY BARBARA ALLAN—C

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 288; from Mrs Duff, Kilbirnie, February 9, 1825.

1

It fell about the Lammas time,
When the woods grow green and yellow,
There came a wooer out of the West
A wooing to Barbara Allan.

2

‘It is not for your bonny face,
Nor for your beauty bonny,
But it is all for your tocher good
I come so far about ye.’

3

‘If it be not for my comely face,
Nor for my beauty bonnie,
My tocher good ye'll never get paid
Down on the board before ye.’

4

‘O will ye go to the Highland hills,
To see my white corn growing?
Or will ye go to the river-side,
To see my boats a rowing?’

5

O he's awa, and awa he's gone,
And death's within him dealing,
And it is all for the sake of her,
His bonnie Barbara Allan.

6

O he sent his man unto the house,
Where that she was a dwelling:
‘O you must come my master to see,
If you be Barbara Allan.’

7

So slowly aye as she put on,
And so stoutly as she gaed till him,
And so slowly as she could say,
‘I think, young man, you're lying.’

8

‘O I am lying in my bed,
And death within me dwelling;
And it is all for the love of thee,
My bonny Barbara Allan.’

9

She was not ae mile frae the town,
Till she heard the dead-bell ringing:
‘Och hone, oh hone, he's dead and gone,
For the love of Barbara Allan!’

279

85
LADY ALICE

Lady Alice.

LADY ALICE—A

[_]

a. Bell's Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the Peasantry of England, p. 127, a stall copy. b. Edward Hawkins, in Notes and Queries, Second Series, I, 418. c. Notes and Queries, Second Series, I, 354, as heard sung forty years before 1856, “Uneda,” Philadelphia.

1

Lady Alice was sitting in her bower-window,
Mending her midnight quoif,
And there she saw as fine a corpse
As ever she saw in her life.

2

‘What bear ye, what bear ye, ye six men tall?
What bear ye on your shoulders?’
‘We bear the corpse of Giles Collins,
An old and true lover of yours.’

280

3

‘O lay him down gently, ye six men tall,
All on the grass so green,
And tomorrow, when the sun goes down,
Lady Alice a corpse shall be seen.

4

‘And bury me in Saint Mary's church,
All for my love so true,
And make me a garland of marjoram,
And of lemon-thyme, and rue.’

5

Giles Collins was buried all in the east,
Lady Alice all in the west,
And the roses that grew on Giles Collins's grave,
They reached Lady Alice's breast.

6

The priest of the parish he chanced to pass,
And he severed those roses in twain;
Sure never were seen such true lovers before,
Nor eer will there be again.

Giles Collins and Proud Lady Anna

LADY ALICE—B

[_]

Gammer Gurton's Garland, p. 38, ed. 1810.

1

Giles Collins he said to his old mother,
Mother, come bind up my head,
And send to the parson of our parish,
For tomorrow I shall be dead. dead,
For tomorrow I shall be dead.

2

His mother she made him some water-gruel,
And stirrd it round with a spoon;
Giles Collins he ate up his water-gruel,
And died before 'twas noon.

3

Lady Anna was sitting at her window,
Mending her night-robe and coif;
She saw the very prettiest corpse
She'd seen in all her life.

4

‘What bear ye there, ye six strong men,
Upon your shoulders so high?’
‘We bear the body of Giles Collins,
Who for love of you did die.’

5

‘Set him down, set him down,’ Lady Anna she cry'd,
‘On the grass that grows so green;
Tomorrow, before the clock strikes ten,
My body shall lye by hisn.’

6

Lady Anna was buried in the east,
Giles Collins was buried in the west;
There grew a lilly from Giles Collins
That touchd Lady Anna's breast.

7

There blew a cold north-easterly wind,
And cut this lilly in twain,
Which never there was seen before,
And it never will again.

Giles Collin

LADY ALICE—C

[_]

Miss M. H. Mason's Nursery Rhymes and Country Songs, p. 46,

1

Giles Collin he said to his mother one day,
Oh, mother, come bind up my head!
For tomorrow morning before it is day
I'm sure I shall be dead.

2

‘Oh, mother, oh, mother, if I should die,
And I am sure I shall,
I will not be buried in our churchyard,
But under Lady Alice's wall.’

3

His mother she made him some water-gruel,
And stirred it up with a spoon;
Giles Collin he ate but one spoonful,
And died before it was noon.

4

Lady Alice was sitting in her window,
All dressed in her night-coif;
She saw as pretty a corpse go by
As ever she'd seen in her life.

5

‘What bear ye there, ye six tall men?
What bear ye on your shourn?’
‘We bear the body of Giles Collin,
Who was a true lover of yourn.’

6

‘Down with him, down with him, upon the grass,
The grass that grows so green;
For tomorrow morning before it is day
My body shall lie by him.’

7

Her mother she made her some plum-gruel,
With spices all of the best;
Lady Alice she ate but one spoonful,
And the doctor he ate up the rest.

8

Giles Collin was laid in the lower chancel,
Lady Alice all in the higher;
There grew up a rose from Lady Alice's breast,
And from Giles Collin's a briar.

9

And they grew, and they grew, to the very church-top,
Until they could grow no higher,
And twisted and twined in a true-lover's knot,
Which made all the parish admire.

281

86
YOUNG BENJIE


282

Young Benjie

YOUNG BENJIE—A

[_]

Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, III, 251, ed. 1803; III, 10, ed. 1833. From tradition.

1

Of a' the maids o fair Scotland
The fairest was Marjorie,
And Young Benjie was her ae true-love,
And a dear true-love was he.

2

And wow! but they were lovers dear,
And loved fu constantlie;
But ay the mair, when they fell out,
The sairer was their plea.

3

And they hae quarrelled on a day,
Till Marjorie's heart grew wae,
And she said she'd chuse another luve,
And let Young Benjie gae.

4

And he was stout, and proud-hearted,
And thought o't bitterlie,
And he's gaen by the wan moon-light
To meet his Marjorie.

5

‘O open, open, my true-love,
O open, and let me in!’
‘I dare na open, Young Benjie,
My three brothers are within.’

6

‘Ye lied, ye lied, ye bonny burd,
Sae loud's I hear ye lie;
As I came by the Lowden banks,
They bade gude een to me.

7

‘But fare ye weel, my ae fause love,
That I hae loved sae lang!
It sets ye chuse another love,
And let Young Benjie gang.’

8

Then Marjorie turned her round about,
The tear blinding her ee:
‘I darena, darena let thee in,
But I'll come down to thee.’

9

Then saft she smiled, and said to him,
O what ill hae I done?
He took her in his armis twa,
And threw her oer the linn.

10

The stream was strang, the maid was stout,
And laith, laith to be dang,
But ere she wan the Lowden banks
Her fair colour was wan.

11

Then up bespak her eldest brother,
‘O see na ye what I see?’
And out then spak her second brother,
‘It's our sister Marjorie!’

12

Out then spak her eldest brother,
‘O how shall we her ken?’
And out then spak her youngest brother,
‘There's a honey-mark on her chin.’

13

Then they've taen up the comely corpse,
And laid it on the grund:
‘O wha has killed our ae sister,
And how can he be found?

14

‘The night it is her low lykewake,
The morn her burial day,
And we maun watch at mirk midnight,
And hear what she will say.’

15

Wi doors ajar, and candle-light,
And torches burning clear,

283

The streikit corpse, till still midnight,
They waked, but naething hear.

16

About the middle o the night
The cocks began to craw,
And at the dead hour o the night
The corpse began to thraw.

17

‘O wha has done the wrang, sister,
Or dared the deadly sin?
Wha was sae stout, and feared nae dout,
As thraw ye oer the linn?’

18

‘Young Benjie was the first ae man
I laid my love upon;
He was sae stout and proud-hearted,
He threw me oer the linn.’

19

‘Sall we Young Benjie head, sister?
Sall we Young Benjie hang?
Or sall we pike out his twa gray een,
And punish him ere he gang?’

20

‘Ye mauna Benjie head, brothers,
Ye mauna Benjie hang,
But ye maun pike out his twa gray een,
And punish him ere he gang.

21

‘Tie a green gravat round his neck,
And lead him out and in,
And the best ae servant about your house
To wait Young Benjie on.

22

‘And ay, at every seven year's end,
Ye'll tak him to the linn;
For that's the penance he maun drie,
To scug his deadly sin.’

Bondsey and Maisry

YOUNG BENJIE—B

[_]

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 265.

1

O come along wi me, brother,
Now come along wi me;
And we'll gae seek our sister Maisry,
Into the water o Dee.’

2

The eldest brother he stepped in,
He stepped to the knee;
Then out he jumpd upo the bank,
Says, This water's nae for me.

3

The second brother he stepped in,
He stepped to the quit;
Then out he jumpd upo the bank,
Says, This water's wondrous deep.

4

When the third brother stepped in,
He stepped to the chin;
Out he got, and forward wade,
For fear o drowning him.

5

The youngest brother he stepped in,
Took's sister by the hand;
Said, Here she is, my sister Maisry,
Wi the hinny-draps on her chin.

6

‘O if I were in some bonny ship,
And in some strange countrie,
For to find out some conjurer,
To gar Maisry speak to me!’

7

Then out it speaks an auld woman,
As she was passing by:
‘Ask of your sister what you want,
And she will speak to thee.’

8

‘O sister, tell me who is the man
That did your body win?
And who is the wretch, tell me, likewise,
That threw you in the lin?’

9

‘O Bondsey was the only man
That did my body win;
And likewise Bondsey was the man
That threw me in the lin.’

10

‘O will we Bondsey head, sister?
Or will we Bondsey hang?
Or will we set him at our bow-end,
Lat arrows at him gang?’

11

‘Ye winna Bondsey head, brothers,
Nor will ye Bondsey hang;
But ye'll take out his twa grey een,
Make Bondsey blind to gang.

12

‘Ye'll put to the gate a chain o gold,
A rose garland gar make,
And ye'll put that in Bondsey's head,
A' for your sister's sake.’

284

87
PRINCE ROBERT

Prince Robert

PRINCE ROBERT—A

[_]

Scott's Minstrelsy, II, 124, ed. 1802; III, 269, ed. 1833: from the recitation of Miss Christian Rutherford.

1

Prince Robert has wedded a gay ladye,
He has wedded her with a ring;
Prince Robert has wedded a gay ladye,
But he daur na bring her hame.

2

‘Your blessing, your blessing, my mother dear,
Your blessing now grant to me!’
‘Instead of a blessing ye sall have my curse,
And you'll get nae blessing frae me.’

3

She has called upon her waiting-maid,
To fill a glass of wine;
She has called upon her fause steward,
To put rank poison in.

4

She has put it to her roudes lip,
And to her roudes chin;
She has put it to her fause, fause mouth,
But the never a drop gaed in.

5

He has put it to his bonny mouth,
And to his bonny chin,
He's put it to his cherry lip,
And sae fast the rank poison ran in.

6

‘O ye hae poisoned your ae son, mother,
Your ae son and your heir;
O ye hae poisoned your ae son, mother,
And sons you'll never hae mair.

7

‘O where will I get a little boy,
That will win hose and shoon,
To rin sae fast to Darlinton,
And bid Fair Eleanor come?

8

Then up and spake a little boy,
That wad win hose and shoon,
‘O I'll away to Darlinton,
And bid Fair Eleanor come.’

9

O he has run to Darlinton,
And tirled at the pin;
And wha was sae ready as Eleanor's sell
To let the bonny boy in?

10

‘Your gude-mother has made ye a rare dinour,
She's made it baith gude and fine;
Your gude-mother has made ye a gay dinour,
And ye maun cum till her and dine.’

11

It's twenty lang miles to Sillertoun town,
The langest that ever were gane;

285

But the steed it was wight, and the ladye was light,
And she cam linkin in.

12

But when she came to Sillertoun town,
And into Sillertoun ha,
The torches were burning, the ladies were mourning,
And they were weeping a'.

13

‘O where is now my wedded lord,
And where now can he be?
O where is now my wedded lord?
For him I canna see.’

14

‘Your wedded lord is dead,’ she says,
‘And just gane to be laid in the clay;
Your wedded lord is dead,’ she says,
‘And just gane to be buried the day.

15

‘Ye'se get nane o his gowd, ye'se get nane o his gear,
Ye'se get nae thing frae me;
Ye'se na get an inch o his gude broad land,
Tho your heart suld burst in three.’

16

‘I want nane o his gowd, I want nane o his gear,
I want nae land frae thee;
But I'll hae the ring that's on his finger,
For them he did promise to me.’

17

‘Ye'se na get the ring that's on his finger,
Ye'se na get them frae me;
Ye'se na get the ring that's on his finger,
An your heart suld burst in three.’

18

She's turn'd her back unto the wa,
And her face unto a rock,
And there, before the mother's face,
Her very heart it broke.

19

The tane was buried in Marie's kirk,
The tother in Marie's quair,
And out o the tane there sprang a birk,
And out o the tother a brier.

20

And thae twa met, and thae twa plat,
The birk but and the brier,
And by that ye may very weel ken
They were twa lovers dear.

Earl Robert

PRINCE ROBERT—B

[_]

Motherwell's MS. p. 149,; Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 200: from the recitation of Mrs Thomson, Kilbarchan, a native of Bonhill, Dumbartonshire, aged betwixt sixty and seventy.

1

It's fifty miles to Sittingen's Rocks,
As eer was ridden or gane;
And Earl Robert has wedded a wife,
But he dare na bring her hame.
And Earl Robert has wedded a wife,
But he dare na bring her hame.

2

His mother, she called to her waiting-maid,
To bring her a pint o wine:
‘For I dinna weel ken what hour of the day
That my son Earl Robert shall dine.’

3

She's put it to her fause, fause cheek,
But an her fause, fause chin;
She's put it to her fause, fause lips,
But never a drap went in.

4

But he's put it to his bonny cheek,
Aye and his bonny chin;
He's put it to his red rosy lips,
And the poison went merrily doun.

5

‘O where will I get a bonny boy,
That will win hose and shoon,
That will gang quickly to Sittingen's Rocks,
And bid my lady come?’

6

It's out then speaks a bonny boy,
To Earl Robert was something akin:
‘Many a time have I ran thy errand,
But this day wi the tears I'll rin.’

7

Bat when he came to Sittingin's Rocks,
To the middle of a' the ha,
There were bells a ringing, and music playing,
And ladies dancing a'.

8

‘What news, what news, my bonny boy?
What news have ye to me?
Is Earl Robert in very good health,
And the ladies of your countrie?’

9

‘O Earl Robert's in very good health,
And as weel as a man can be;
But his mother this night has a drink to be druken,
And at it you must be.’

286

10

She called to her waiting-maid,
To bring her a riding-weed,
And she called to her stable-groom,
To saddle her milk-white steed.

11

But when she came to Earl Robert's bouir,
To the middle of a' the ha,
There were bells a ringing, and sheets doun hinging,
And ladies mourning a'.

12

‘I've come for none of his gold,’ she said,
‘Nor none of his white monie,
Excepting a ring of his smallest finger,
If that you will grant me.’

13

‘Thou'll not get none of his gold,’ she said,
‘Nor none of his white monie;
Thou'll not get a ring of his smallest finger,
Tho thy heart should break in three.’

14

She set her foot unto a stane,
Her back unto a tree;
She set her foot unto a stane,
And her heart did break in three.

15

The one was buried in Mary's kirk,
The other in Mary's quire;
Out of the one there grew a birk,
From the other a bonnie brier.

16

And these twa grew, and these twa threw,
Till their twa craps drew near;
So all the warld may plainly see
That they loved each other dear.

Lord Robert and Mary Florence

PRINCE ROBERT—C

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 321, from Agnes Laird, Kilbarchan, June 21, 1825.

1

Lord Robert and Mary Florence,
They were twa children young;
They were scarse seven years of age
Till love began to spring.

2

Lord Robert loved Mary Florence,
And she lovd him above power;
But he durst not for his cruel mother
Bring her unto his bower.

3

It was nineteen miles to Strawberry Castle,
As good as ever was rode or gane,
But the lord being light, and the steed being swift,
Lord Robert was hame gin noon.

4

‘A blessing, a blessing, dear mother,’ he cries,
‘A blessing I do crave!’
‘A blessing, a blessing, my son Lord Robert,
And a blessing thou shalt have.’

5

She called on her chamber-maid
To fill up a glass of wine,
And so clever was her cursed fingers
To put the rank poison in.

6

‘O wae be to you, mother dear,’ he cries,
‘For working such a wae;
For poisoning of your son Lord Robert,
And children you have nae mae.

7

‘O where will I get a pretty little boy
That'll rin him my errands sune?
That will rin unto Strawberry Castle,
And tell Mary Florence to cum?’

8

‘Here am I, a pretty little boy,
Your eldest sister's son,
That will rin unto Strawberry Castle,
And tell Mary Florence to come.’

9

When he came unto Strawberry Castle
He tirled at the pin,
And so ready was Mary Florence hersell
To open and let him in.

10

‘What news, what news, my pretty little boy?
What news hast thou brocht here?’
With sichin and sabbin and wringing his hands,
No message he could refer.

11

‘The news that I have gotten,’ he says,
‘I cannot weel declair;
But my grandmother has prepard a feast,
And fain she would hae thee thair.’

12

She called on her stable-groom
To dress her swiftest steed;

287

For she knew very weel by this pretty little boy
That Lord Robert was dead.

13

And when she came to Knotingale Castle
She tirled at the pin,
And so ready was Lord Robert's mother
To open and let her in.

14

‘What news, what news, Mary Florence?’ she says,
‘What news has thou to me?’
‘I came to see your son Lord Robert,
And fain would I him see.

15

‘I came not for his gude red gold,
Nor for his white monie,
But for the ring on his wee finger,
And fain would I it see.’

16

‘That ring thou cannot see, Mary Florence,
That ring thou'll never see;
For death was so strong in Lord Robert's breast
That the gold ring burst in three.’

17

She has set her foot unto a stone,
Her back unto a tree;
Before she left Knotingale Castle
Her heart it brak in three.

Prince Robert

PRINCE ROBERT—D

[_]

Harris MS., fol. 29, from the recitation of Mrs Molison.

1

Prince Robert he has wedded a wife,
An he daurna bring her hame;
The queen [OMITTED]
His mither was much to blame.
[OMITTED]

2

‘It is the fashion in oor countrie, mither,
I dinna ken what it is here,
To like your wife better than your mither,
That [OMITTED] bought you sae dear.’

3

She called upon her best marie,
An tippet her wi a ring,
To bring to her the rank poison,
To gie Prince Robert a dram.

4

She put it to her cheek, her cheek,
She put it to her chin;
She put it to her fause, fause lips,
But neer a drap gaed in.

5

She put it to his cheek, his cheek,
She put it to his chin;
She put it to his rosy lips,
An the rank poison gaed in.

6

‘Whare will I get a bonnie boy,
Wha will win meat an fee,
Wha will rin on to [OMITTED] bower,
Bring my gude ladie to me?’

7

‘Here am I, a bonnie boy,
Willin to win meat an fee,
Wha will rin on to [OMITTED] bower,
An bring your gude ladie.’

8

‘Whan you come to broken brig,
Tak aff your coat an swim;
An whan you come to grass growin,
Tak aff your shoon an rin.’

9

An whan he cam to broken brig,
He coost his coat an swam,
An whan he cam to grass growin,
Set doon his feet an ran.

10

An whan he cam to the ladie's bower,
He fand her a' her lane,
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

11

An syne she kissed his wan, wan lips,
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

288

88
YOUNG JOHNSTONE


289

The Cruel Knight

YOUNG JOHNSTONE—A

[_]

Herd's Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 305.

1

The knight stands in the stable-door,
As he was for to ryde,
When out then came his fair lady,
Desiring him to byde.

2

‘How can I byde? how dare I byde?
How can I byde with thee?
Have I not killd thy ae brother?
Thou hadst nae mair but he.’

3

‘If you have killd my ae brother,
Alas, and woe is me!
But if I save your fair body,
The better you'll like me.’

4

She's tane him to her secret bower,
Pinnd with a siller pin,
And she's up to her highest tower,
To watch that none come in.

5

She had na well gane up the stair,
And entered in her tower,
When four and twenty armed knights
Came riding to the door.

6

‘Now God you save, my fair lady,
I pray you tell to me,
Saw you not a wounded knight
Come riding by this way?’

7

‘Yes, bloody, bloody was his sword,
And bloody were his hands;
But if the steed he rides be good,
He's past fair Scotland's strands.

8

‘Light down, light down then, gentlemen,
And take some bread and wine;
The better you will him pursue
When you shall lightly dine.’

9

‘We thank you for your bread, lady,
We thank you for your wine;
I would gie thrice three thousand pounds
Your fair body was mine.’

10

Then she's gane to her secret bower,
Her husband dear to meet;
But he drew out his bloody sword,
And wounded her sae deep.

11

‘What aileth thee now, good my lord?
What aileth thee at me?
Have you not got my father's gold,
But and my mother's fee?’

12

‘Now live, now live, my fair lady,
O live but half an hour,
There's neer a leech in fair Scotland
But shall be at thy bower.’

13

‘How can I live? how shall I live?
How can I live for thee?
See you not where my red heart's blood
Runs trickling down my knee?’
[OMITTED]

Young Johnstone; or, The Young Johnstone

YOUNG JOHNSTONE—B

[_]

a. Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 193, from the recitation of Mrs Gentles, Paisley. b. Finlay's Scottish Ballads, II, 71, from two recited copies.

1

Young Johnstone and the young Colnel
Sat drinking at the wine:
‘O gin ye wad marry my sister,
It's I wad marry thine.’

2

‘I wadna marry your sister
For a' your houses and land;
But I'll keep her for my leman,
When I come oer the strand.

3

‘I wadna marry your sister
For a' your gowd so gay;
But I'll keep her for my leman,
When I come by the way.’

4

Young Johnstone had a little small sword,
Hung low down by his gair,
And he stabbed it through the young Colnel,
That word he neer spak mair.

5

But he's awa to his sister's bower,
He's tirled at the pin:
‘Whare hae ye been, my dear brither,
Sae late a coming in?’

290

‘I hae been at the school, sister,
Learning young clerks to sing.’

6

‘I've dreamed a dreary dream this night,
I wish it may be for good;
They were seeking you with hawks and hounds,
And the young Colnel was dead.’

7

‘Hawks and hounds they may seek me,
As I trow well they be;
For I have killed the young Colnel,
And thy own true-love was he.’

8

‘If ye hae killed the young Colnel,
O dule and wae is me!
But I wish ye may be hanged on a hie gallows,
And hae nae power to flee.’

9

And he's awa to his true-love's bower,
He's tirled at the pin:
‘Whar hae ye been, my dear Johnstone,
Sae late a coming in?’
‘It's I hae been at the school,’ he says,
‘Learning young clerks to sing.’

10

‘I have dreamed a dreary dream,’ she says,
‘I wish it may be for good;
They were seeking you with hawks and hounds,
And the young Colnel was dead.’

11

‘Hawks and hounds they may seek me,
As I trow well they be;
For I hae killed the young Colnel,
And thy ae brother was he.’

12

‘If ye hae killed the young Colnel,
O dule and wae is me!
But I care the less for the young Colnel,
If thy ain body be free.

13

‘Come in, come in, my dear Johnstone,
Come in and take a sleep;
And I will go to my casement,
And carefully I will thee keep.’

14

He had not weel been in her bower-door,
No not for half an hour,
When four and twenty belted knights
Came riding to the bower.

15

‘Well may you sit and see, lady,
Well may you sit and say;
Did you not see a bloody squire
Come riding by this way?’

16

‘What colour were his hawks?’ she says,
‘What colour were his hounds?
What colour was the gallant steed,
That bore him from the bounds?’

17

‘Bloody, bloody were his hawks,
And bloody were his hounds;
But milk-white was the gallant steed,
That bore him from the bounds.’

18

‘Yes, bloody, bloody were his hawks,
And bloody were his hounds;
And milk-white was the gallant steed,
That bore him from the bounds.

19

‘Light down, light down now, gentlemen,
And take some bread and wine;
And the steed be swift that he rides on,
He's past the brig o Lyne.’

20

‘We thank you for your bread, fair lady,
We thank you for your wine;
But I wad gie thrice three thousand pound
That bloody knight was taen.’

21

‘Lie still, lie still, my dear Johnstone,
Lie still and take a sleep;
For thy enemies are past and gone,
And carefully I will thee keep.’

22

But Young Johnstone had a little wee sword,
Hung low down by his gair,
And he stabbed it in fair Annet's breast,
A deep wound and a sair.

23

‘What aileth thee now, dear Johnstone?
What aileth thee at me?
Hast thou not got my father's gold,
Bot and my mither's fee?’

24

‘Now live, now live, my dear ladye,
Now live but half an hour,
And there's no a leech in a' Scotland
But shall be in thy bower.’

25

‘How can I live? how shall I live?
Young Johnstone, do not you see
The red, red drops o my bonny heart's blood
Rin trinkling down my knee?

291

26

‘But take thy harp into thy hand,
And harp out owre yon plain,
And neer think mair on thy true-love
Than if she had never been.’

27

He hadna weel been out o the stable,
And on his saddle set,
Till four and twenty broad arrows
Were thrilling in his heart.

Sweet William and the Young Colonel

YOUNG JOHNSTONE—C

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 310, from the recitation of Jeanie Nicol, May 4, 1825.

1

Sweet William and the young Colnel
One day was drinking wine:
‘It's I will marry your sister,
If ye will marry mine.’

2

‘I will not marry your sister,
Altho her hair be brown;
But I'll keep her for my liberty-wife,
As I ride thro the town.’

3

William, having his two-edged sword,
He leaned quite low to the ground,
And he has given the young Colnel
A deep and a deadly wound.

4

He rade, he rade, and awa he rade,
Till he came to his mother's bower;
‘O open, open, mother,’ he says,
‘And let your auld son in.

5

‘For the rain rains owre my yellow hair,
And the dew draps on my chin,
And trembling stands the gallant steed
That carries me from the ground.’

6

‘What aileth thee, Sweet William?’ she says,
‘What harm now hast thou done?’
‘Oh I hae killed the young Colnel,
And his heart's blood sair does run.’

7

‘If ye hae killed the young Colnel,
Nae shelter ye'll get frae me;
May the two-edged sword be upon your heart,
That never hath power to flee!’

8

He rade, he rade, and awa he rade,
Till he came to his sister's bower;
‘Oh open, open, sister,’ he says,
‘And let your brother in.

9

‘For the rain rains on my yellow hair,
And the dew draps on my chin,
And trembling stands the gallant steed
That carries me from the ground.’

10

‘What aileth thee, Sweet William?’ she says,
‘What harm now hast thou done?’
‘Oh I have killed the young Colnel,
And his heart's blood sair doth run.’

11

‘If ye hae killed the young Colnel,
Nae shelter ye'll get frae me;
May the two-edged sword be upon your heart,
That never hath power to flee!’

12

He rade, he rade, and awa he rade,
Till he came to his true-love's bower;
‘Oh open, oh open, my true-love,’ he says,
‘And let your sweetheart in.

13

‘For the rain rains on my yellow hair,
And the dew draps on my chin,
And trembling stands the gallant steed
That carries me from the ground.’

14

‘What aileth thee, Sweet William?’ she says,
‘What harm now hast thou done?’
‘Oh I hae killed thy brother dear,
And his heart's blood sair doth run.’

15

‘If ye hae killed my brother dear,
It's oh and alace for me!
But between the blankets and the sheets
It's there I will hide thee!’

16

She's taen him by the milk-white hand,
She's led him thro chambers three,
Until she came to her own chamber:
‘It's there I will hide thee.

17

‘Lye down, lye down, Sweet William,’ she says,
‘Lye down and take a sleep;
It's owre the chamber I will watch,
Thy fair bodie to keep.’

292

18

She had not watched at the chamber-door
An hour but only three,
Till four and twenty belted knichts
Did seek his fair bodie.

19

‘O did you see the hunt?’ she says,
‘Or did you see the hounds?
Or did you see that gallant steed,
That last rade thro the town?’

20

‘What colour was the fox?’ they said,
‘What colour was the hounds?
What colour was the gallant steed,
That's far yont London toun?’

21

‘O dark grey was the fox,’ she said,
‘And light grey was the hounds,
But milk-white was the gallant steed
That's far yont London town.’

22

‘Rise up, rise up, Sweet William,’ she says,
‘Rise up, and go away;
For four and twenty belted knights
Were seeking thy bodye.’

23

Sweet William, having his two-edged sword,
He leaned it quite low to the ground,
And he has given his own true-love
A deep and a deadly wound.

24

‘What aileth thee, Sweet William?’ she says,
‘What harm now have I done?
I never harmed a hair of your head
Since ever this love began.’

25

‘Oh live, oh live, my own true-love,
Oh live but half an hour,
And the best doctor in London town
Shall come within thy bower.’

26

‘How can I live? how shall I live?
How can I live half an hour?
For don't you see my very heart's blood
All sprinkled on the floor?’

27

William, having his two-edged sword,
He leaned it quite low to the ground,
And he has given his own bodie
A deep and a deadly wound.

Johnston Hey and Young Caldwell

YOUNG JOHNSTONE—D

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 639, from the recitation of an Irishwoman, wife of John French, a porter at the quay of Ayr.

1

Johnston Hey and Young Caldwell
Were drinking o the wine:
‘O will ye marry my sister?
And I will marry thine.’

2

‘I winna marry your sister,
Altho her locks are broun;
But I'll make her my concubine,
As I ride through the toun.’

3

Syne Johnston drew a gude braid sword,
That hang down by his knee,
And he has run the Young Caldwell
Out through the fair bodie.

4

Up he gat, and awa he rade,
By the clear light o the moon,
Until he came to his mother's door,
And there he lichtit doun.

5

‘Whare hae ye been, son Willie,’ she said,
‘Sae late and far in the night?’
‘O I hae been at yon new slate house,
Hearing the clergy speak.’

6

‘I dreamd a dream. son Willie,’ she said,
‘I doubt it bodes nae gude;
That your ain room was fu o red swine,
And your bride's bed daubd wi blude.’

7

‘To dream o blude, mither,’ he said,
‘It bodeth meikle ill;
And I hae slain a Young Caldwell,
And they're seeking me to kill.’

8

‘Gin ye hae slain a Young Caldwell,
Alace and wae is me!
But gin your fair body's free frae skaith,
The easier I will be.’

9

Up he gat, and awa he rade,
By the clear licht o the mune,
Until he cam to his sister's bower,
And there he lichtit doun.

293

10

‘Whare hae ye been, brither,’ she said,
‘Sae late and far in the night?’
‘O I hae been in yon new slate house,
Hearing the clergy speak.’

11

‘I dreamd a dream, brither,’ she said,
‘I doubt it bodes nae gude;
I dreamd the ravens eat your flesh,
And the lions drank your blude.’

12

‘To dream o blude, sister,’ he said,
‘It bodeth meikle ill;
And I hae slain a Young Caldwell,
And they're seeking me to kill.’

13

‘Gin ye hae slain a Young Caldwell,
Alace and wae is me!
To be torn at the tail o wild horses
Is the death I weet ye'll die.’

14

Up he gat, and awa he rade,
By the clear light o the mune,
Untill he cam to his true-love's bower,
And there he lichtit doun.

15

‘Whare hae ye been, Love Willie,’ she said,
‘Sae late and far in the night?’
‘O I hae been in yon new sklate house,
Hearing the clergy speak.’

16

‘I dreamd a dream, Willie,’ she said,
‘I doubt it bodes nae gude;
I dreamd the ravens ate your flesh,
And the lions drank your blude.’

17

‘To dream o ravens, love,’ he said,
‘Is the loss o a near friend;
And I hae killd your brither dear,
And for it I'll be slain.’

18

‘Gin ye hae slain my ae brither,
Alace and wae is me!
But gin your fair body's free frae skaith,
The easier I will be.

19

‘Lye doun, lye doun, Love Willie,’ she said,
‘Lye doun and tak a sleep;
And I will walk the castel wa,
Your fair bodie to keep.’

20

He laid him doun within her bowr,
She happit him wi her plaid,
And she's awa to the castle-wa,
To see what would betide.

21

She hadna gane the castle round
A time but only three,
Till four and twenty beltit knichts
Cam riding ower the lea.

22

And whan they came unto the gate,
They stude and thus did say:
‘O did ye see yon bludie knicht,
As he rade out this way?’

23

‘What colour was his hawk?’ she said,
‘What colour was his hound?
What colour was the gudely steed
The bludie knicht rade on?’

24

‘Nut-brown was his hawk,’ they said,
‘And yellow-fit was his hound,
And milk-white was the goodly steed
The bluidie knicht rade on.’

25

‘Gin nut-brown was his hawk,’ she said,
‘And yellow-fit was his hound,
And milk-white was the gudely steed,
He's up to London gone.’

26

They spurrd their steeds out ower the lea,
They being void o fear;
Syne up she gat, and awa she gade,
Wi tidings to her dear.

27

‘Lye still, lye still, Love Willie,’ she said,
‘Lye still and tak your sleep;’
Syne he took up his good braid sword,
And wounded her fu deep.

28

‘O wae be to you, Love Willie,’ she said,
‘And an ill death may ye die!
For first ye slew my ae brither,
And now ye hae killd me.’

29

‘Oh live, oh live, true-love,’ he said,
‘Oh live but ae half hour,
And there's not a docter in a' London
But sall be in your bower.’

30

‘How can I live, Love Willie,’ she said,
‘For the space of half an hour?
Dinnae ye see my clear heart's blood
A rinnin down the floor?

294

31

‘Tak aff, tak aff my holland sark,
And rive't frae gare to gair,
And stap it in my bleeding wounds;
They'll may be bleed nae mair.’

32

Syne he took aff her holland sark,
And rave't frae gare to gair,
And stappit it in her bleeding wounds,
But aye they bled the mair.

33

‘Gae dress yoursell in black,’ she said,
‘And gae whistling out the way,
And mourn nae mair for your true-love
When she's laid in the clay.’

34

He leaned his halbert on the ground,
The point o't to his breast,
Saying, Here three sauls ['s] gaun to heaven;
I hope they'll a' get rest.

Lord John's Murder

YOUNG JOHNSTONE—E

[_]

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 20.

1

Lord John stands in his stable door,
Says he, I will gae ride,
His lady, in her bigly bower?
Desired him to bide.

2

‘How can I bide? how can I bide?
How shall I bide wi thee?
When I hae killd your ae brother;
You hae nae mair but he.’

3

‘If ye hae killd my ae brother,
Alas, and wae is me!
If ye be well yoursell, my love,
The less matter will be.

4

‘Ye'll do you to yon bigly bower,
And take a silent sleep,
And I'll watch in my highest tower,
Your fair body to keep.’

5

She has shut her bigly bower,
All wi a silver pin,
And done her to the highest tower,
To watch that nane come in.

6

But as she looked round about,
To see what she could see,
There she saw nine armed knights
Come riding oer the lea.

7

‘God make you safe and free, lady,
God make you safe and free!
Did you see a bludy knight
Come riding oer the lea?’

8

‘O what like was his hawk, his hawk?
And what like was his hound?
If his steed has ridden well,
He's passd fair Scotland's strand.

9

‘Come in, come in, gude gentlemen,
And take white bread and wine;
And aye the better ye'll pursue,
The lighter that ye dine.’

10

‘We thank you for your bread, lady,
We thank you for the wine,
And I woud gie my lands sae broad
Your fair body were mine.’

11

She has gane to her bigly bower,
Her ain gude lord to meet;
A trusty brand he quickly drew,
Gae her a wound sae deep.

12

‘What harm, my lord, provokes thine ire
To wreak itself on me,
When thus I strove to save thy life,
Yet served for sic a fee?’

13

‘Ohon, alas, my lady gay,
To come sae hastilie!
I thought it was my deadly foe,
Ye had trysted into me.

14

‘O live, O live, my gay lady,
The space o ae half hour,
And nae a leech in a' the land
But I'se bring to your bower.’

15

‘How can I live? how shall I live?
How can I live for thee?
Ye see my blude rin on the ground,
My heart's blude by your knee.

16

‘O take to flight, and flee, my love,
O take to flight, and flee!
I woudna wish your fair body
For to get harm for me.’

17

‘Ae foot I winna flee, lady,
Ae foot I winna flee;

295

I've dune the crime worthy o death,
It's right that I should die.

18

‘O deal ye well at my love's lyke
The beer but an the wine;
For ere the morn, at this same time,
Ye'll deal the same at mine.’

Young Johnston

YOUNG JOHNSTONE—F

[_]

Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. xx, XVIII.

As Willie and the young Colnel
Were drinking at the wine,
‘O will ye marry my sister?’ says Will,
‘And I will marry thine.’

296

89
FAUSE FOODRAGE


298

Fa'se Footrage

FAUSE FOODRAGE—A

[_]

Alexander Fraser Tytler's Brown MS., No 3.

1

King Easter has courted her for her gowd,
King Wester for her fee,
King Honor for her lands sae braid,
And for her fair body.

2

They had not been four months married,
As I have heard them tell,
Until the nobles of the land
Against them did rebel.

3

And they cast kaivles them amang,
And kaivles them between,
And they cast kaivles them amang
Wha shoud gae kill the king.

4

O some said yea, and some said nay,
Their words did not agree;
Till up it gat him Fa'se Footrage,
And sware it should be he.

5

When bells were rung, and mass was sung.
And a' man boon to bed,

299

King Honor and his gay ladie
In a hie chamer were laid.

6

Then up it raise him Fa'se Footrage,
While a' were fast asleep,
And slew the porter in his lodge,
That watch and ward did keep.

7

O four and twenty silver keys
Hang hie upon a pin,
And ay as a door he did unlock,
He has fastend it him behind.

8

Then up it raise him King Honor,
Says, What means a' this din!
Now what's the matter, Fa'se Footrage?
O wha was't loot you in?

9

‘O ye my errand well shall learn
Before that I depart;’
Then drew a knife baith lang and sharp
And pierced him thro the heart.

10

Then up it got the Queen hersell,
And fell low down on her knee:
‘O spare my life now, Fa'se Footrage!
For I never injured thee.

11

‘O spare my life now, Fa'se Footrage!
Until I lighter be,
And see gin it be lad or lass
King Honor has left me wi.’

12

‘O gin it be a lass,’ he says,
‘Well nursed she shall be;
But gin it be a lad-bairn,
He shall be hanged hie.

13

‘I winna spare his tender age,
Nor yet his hie, hie kin;
But as soon as eer he born is,
He shall mount the gallows-pin.’

14

O four and twenty valiant knights
Were set the Queen to guard,
And four stood ay at her bower-door,
To keep baith watch and ward.

15

But when the time drew till an end
That she should lighter be,
She cast about to find a wile
To set her body free.

16

O she has birled these merry young men
Wi strong beer and wi wine,
Until she made them a' as drunk
As any wallwood swine.

17

‘O narrow, narrow is this window,
And big, big am I grown!’
Yet thro the might of Our Ladie
Out at it she has won.

18

She wanderd up, she wanderd down,
She wanderd out and in,
And at last, into the very swines' stye,
The Queen brought forth a son.

19

Then they cast kaivles them amang
Wha should gae seek the Queen,
And the kaivle fell upon Wise William,
And he's sent his wife for him.

20

O when she saw Wise William's wife,
The Queen fell on her knee;
‘Win up, win up, madame,’ she says,
‘What means this courtesie?’

21

‘O out of this I winna rise
Till a boon ye grant to me,
To change your lass for this lad-bairn
King Honor left me wi.

22

‘And ye maun learn my gay gose-hawke
Well how to breast a steed,
And I shall learn your turtle-dow
As well to write and read.

23

‘And ye maun learn my gay gose-hawke
To wield baith bow and brand,
And I shall learn your turtle-dow
To lay gowd wi her hand.

24

‘At kirk or market where we meet,
We dare nae mair avow
But, Dame how does my gay gose-hawk?
Madame, how does my dow?’

25

When days were gane, and years came on,
Wise William he thought long;
Out has he taen King Honor's son,
A hunting for to gang.

26

It sae fell out at their hunting,
Upon a summer's day,

300

That they cam by a fair castle,
Stood on a sunny brae.

27

‘O dinna ye see that bonny castle,
Wi wa's and towers sae fair?
Gin ilka man had back his ain,
Of it you shoud be heir.’

28

‘How I should be heir of that castle
In sooth I canna see,
When it belongs to Fa'se Footrage,
And he's nae kin to me.’

29

‘O gin ye shoud kill him Fa'se Footrage,
You woud do what is right;
For I wot he killd your father dear,
Ere ever you saw the light.

30

‘Gin ye should kill him Fa'se Footrage,
There is nae man durst you blame;
For he keeps your mother a prisoner,
And she dares no take you hame.’

31

The boy stared wild like a gray gose-hawke,
Says, What may a' this mean!
‘My boy, you are King Honor's son,
And your mother's our lawful queen.’

32

‘O gin I be King Honor's son,
By Our Ladie I swear,
This day I will that traytour slay,
And relieve my mother dear.’

33

He has set his bent bow till his breast,
And lap the castle-wa,
And soon he's siesed on Fa'se Footrage,
Wha loud for help gan ca.

34

‘O hold your tongue now, Fa'se Footrage,
Frae me you shanno flee;’
Syne pierced him through the foul fa'se heart,
And set his mother free.

35

And he has rewarded Wise William
Wi the best half of his land,
And sae has he the turtle-dow
Wi the truth of his right hand.

The Eastmure King and the Westmure King

FAUSE FOODRAGE—B

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 341.

1

The Eastmure king, and the Westmure king,
And the king of Onorie,
They have all courted a pretty maid,
And guess wha she micht be.

2

The Eastmure king courted her for gold,
And the Westmure king for fee,
The king of Onore for womanheid,
And for her fair beautie.

3

The Eastmure king swore a solemn oath,
He would keep it till May,
That he would murder the king of Onore,
Upon his wedding day.

4

When bells was rung, and psalms was sung,
And all men boune for sleep,
Up and started the Eastmure king
At the king of Onore's head.

5

He has drawn the curtains by —
Their sheets was made of dorn —
And he has murdered the king of Onore,
As innocent as he was born.

6

This maid she awak'd in the middle of the night,
Was in a drowsy dream;
She found her bride's-bed swim with blood,
Bot and her good lord slain.

7

‘What will the court and council say?
What will they say to me?
What will the court and council say
But this night I've murderd thee?’

8

Out and speaks the Eastmure king:
‘Hold your tongue, my pretty may,
And come along with me, my dear,
And that court ye'll never see.’

9

He mounted her on a milk-white steed,
Himself upon a gray;
She turnd her back against the court,
And weeping rode away.

10

‘Now if you be with child,’ he says,
‘As I trew well you be,

301

If it be of a lassie-bairn,
I'll give her nurses three.

11

‘If it be a lassie-bairn,
If you please she'll get five;
But if it be a bonnie boy,
I will not let him live.’

12

Word is to the city gone,
And word is to the town,
And word is to the city gone,
She's delivered of a son.

13

But a poor woman in the town
In the same case does lye,
Wha gived to her her woman-child,
Took awa her bonnie boy.

14

At kirk or market, whereer they met,
They never durst avow,
But ‘Thou be kind to my boy,’ she says,
‘I'll be kind to your bonnie dow.’

15

This boy was sixteen years of age,
But he was nae seventeen,
When he is to the garden gone,
To slay that Eastmure king.

16

‘Be aware, be aware, thou Eastmure king,
Be aware this day of me;
For I do swear and do declare
Thy botcher I will be.’

17

‘What aileth thee, my bonnie boy?
What aileth thee at me?
I'm sure I never did thee wrang;
Thy face I neer did see.’

18

‘Thou murdered my father dear,
When scarse conceived was I;
Thou murdered my father dear,
When scarse conceived was me:’
So then he slew that Eastmure king,
Beneath that garden tree.

Eastmuir King

FAUSE FOODRAGE—C

[_]

Harris MS., No 18, fol. 22: derived from Jannie Scott, an old Perthshire nurse, about 1790.

1

Eastmuir king, and Wastmuir king,
And king o Luve, a' three,
It's they coost kevils them amang,
Aboot a gay ladie.

2

Eastmuir king he wan the gowd,
An Wastmuir king the fee,
But king o Luve, wi his lands sae broad,
He's won the fair ladie.

3

Thae twa kings, they made an aith,
That, be it as it may,
They wad slay him king o Luve,
Upon his waddin day.

4

Eastmuir king he brak his aith,
An sair penance did he;
But Wastmuir king he made it oot,
An an ill deid mat he dee!

302

90
JELLON GRAME.


303

Jellon Grame and Lillie Flower; or, Jellon Grame

JELLON GRAME—A

[_]

a. A. Fraser Tytler's Brown MS., No 4. b. Scott's Minatrelsy, II, 20, 1802.

1

O Jellon Grame sat in Silver Wood,
He whistled and he sang,
And he has calld his little foot-page,
His errand for to gang.

2

‘Win up, my bonny boy,’ he says,
‘As quick as eer you may;
For ye maun gang for Lillie Flower,
Before the break of day.’

304

3

The boy he's buckled his belt about,
And thro the green-wood ran,
And he came to the ladie's bower-door,
Before the day did dawn.

4

‘O sleep ye, or wake ye, Lillie Flower?
The red run's i the rain:’
‘I sleep not aft, I wake right aft;
Wha's that that kens my name?’

5

‘Ye are bidden come to Silver Wood,
But I fear you'll never win hame;
Ye are bidden come to Silver Wood,
And speak wi Jellon Grame.’

6

‘O I will gang to Silver Wood,
Though I should never win hame;
For the thing I most desire on earth
Is to speak wi Jellon Grame.’

7

She had no ridden a mile, a mile,
A mile but barely three,
Ere she came to a new made grave,
Beneath a green oak tree.

8

O then up started Jellon Grame,
Out of a bush hard bye:
‘Light down, light down now, Lillie Flower,
For it's here that ye maun ly.’

9

She lighted aff her milk-white steed,
And knelt upon her knee:
‘O mercy, mercy, Jellon Grame!
For I'm nae prepar'd to die.

10

‘Your bairn, that stirs between my sides,
Maun shortly see the light;
But to see it weltring in my blude
Would be a piteous sight.’

11

‘O shoud I spare your life,’ he says,
‘Until that bairn be born,
I ken fu well your stern father
Woud hang me on the morn.’

12

‘O spare my life now, Jellon Grame!
My father ye neer need dread;
I'll keep my bairn i the good green wood,
Or wi it I'll beg my bread.’

13

He took nae pity on that ladie,
Tho she for life did pray;
But pierced her thro the fair body,
As at his feet she lay.

14

He felt nae pity for that ladie,
Tho she was lying dead;
But he felt some for the bonny boy,
Lay weltring in her blude.

15

Up has he taen that bonny boy,
Gien him to nurices nine,
Three to wake, and three to sleep,
And three to go between.

16

And he's brought up that bonny boy,
Calld him his sister's son;
He thought nae man would eer find out
The deed that he had done.

17

But it sae fell out upon a time,
As a hunting they did gay,
That they rested them in Silver Wood,
Upon a summer-day.

18

Then out it spake that bonny boy,
While the tear stood in his eye,
‘O tell me this now, Jellon Grame,
And I pray you dinna lie.

19

‘The reason that my mother dear
Does never take me hame?
To keep me still in banishment
Is baith a sin and shame.’

20

‘You wonder that your mother dear
Does never send for thee;
Lo, there's the place I slew thy mother,
Beneath that green oak tree.’

21

Wi that the boy has bent his bow,
It was baith stout and lang,
And through and thro him Jellon Grame
He's gard an arrow gang.

22

Says, Lye you thare now, Jellon Grame,
My mellison you wi;
The place my mother lies buried in
Is far too good for thee.

305

Hind Henry

JELLON GRAME—B

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 443.

1

Word has come to May Margerie,
In her bower where she sat:
‘You are bid come to good green-wood,
To make your love a shirt.’

2

‘I wonder much,’ said May Margerie,
‘At this message to me;
There is not a month gone of this year
But I have made him three.’

3

Then out did speak her mother dear,
A wise woman was she;
Said, Stay at home, my daughter May,
They seek to murder thee.

4

‘O I'll cast off my gloves, mother,
And hang them up, I say;
If I come never back again,
They will mind you on May.

5

‘Go saddle my horseback,’ she said,
‘It's quick as ever you may,
And we will ride to good green-wood;
It is a pleasant day.’

6

And when she came to good green-wood,
It's through it they did ride;
Then up did start him Hind Henry,
Just at the lady's side.

7

Says, Stop, O stop, you May Margerie,
Just stop I say to thee;
The boy that leads your bridle reins
Shall see you red and blue.

8

It's out he drew a long, long brand,
And stroked it ower a strae,
And through and through that lady's sides
He made the cauld weapon gae.

9

Says, Take you that now, May Margerie,
Just take you that from me,
Because you love Brown Robin,
And never would love me.

10

There was less pity for that lady,
When she was lying dead,
As was for her bony infant boy,
Lay swathed amang her bleed.

11

The boy fled home with all his might,
The tear into his ee:
‘They have slain my lady in the wood,
With fear I'm like to die.’

12

Her sister's ran into the wood,
With greater grief and care,
Sighing and sobbing all the way,
Tearing her cloaths and hair.

13

Says, I'll take up that fair infant,
And lull him on my sleeve;
Altho his father should wish me woe,
His mother to me was leeve.

14

Now she has taken the infant up,
And she has brought him hame,
And she has called him Brown Robin,
That was his father's name.

15

And when he did grow up a bit,
She put him to the lair,
And of all the youths was at that school
None could with him compare.

16

And it fell once upon a day
A playtime it was come,
And when the rest went from the school,
Each one to their own home,

17

He hied him unto good green-wood,
And leapt from tree to tree;
It was to pull a hollin wand,
To play his ownself wi.

18

And when he thus had passed his time,
To go home he was fain,
He chanced to meet him Hind Henry,
Where his mother was slain.

19

‘O how is this,’ the youth cried out,
‘If it to you is known,
How all this wood is growing grass,
And on that small spot grows none?’

20

‘Since you do wonder, bonnie boy,
I shall tell you anon;
That is indeed the very spot
I killed your mother in.’

21

He catched hold of Henry's brand,
And stroked it ower a strae,

306

And thro and thro Hind Henry's sides
He made the cauld metal gae.

22

Says, Take you that, O Hind Henry,
O take you that from me,
For killing of my mother dear,
And her not hurting thee.

May-a-Row

JELLON GRAME—C

[_]

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 231.

1

When spring appeard in all its bloom,
And flowers grew fresh and green,
As May-a-Roe she set her down,
To lay gowd on her seam.

2

But word has come to that lady,
At evening when 'twas dark,
To meet her love in gude greenwood,
And bring to him a sark.

3

‘That's strange to me,’ said May-a-Roe,
‘For how can a' this be?
A month or twa is scarcely past
Sin I sent my lovie three.’

4

Then May-a-Roe lap on her steed,
And quickly rade away;
She hadna ridden but hauf a mile,
Till she heard a voice to say:

5

‘Turn back, turn back, ye ventrous maid,
Nae farther must ye go;
For the boy that leads your bridle rein
Leads you to your overthrow.’

6

But a' these words she neer did mind,
But fast awa did ride;
And up it starts him Hynde Henry,
Just fair by her right side.

7

‘Ye'll tarry here, perfidious maid,
For by my hand ye'se dee;
Ye married my brother, Brown Robin,
Whan ye should hae married me.’

8

‘O mercy, mercy, Hynde Henry,
O mercy have on me!
For I am eight months gane wi child,
Therefore ye'll lat me be.’

9

‘Nae mercy is for thee, fair maid,
Nae mercy is for thee;
You married my brother, Brown Robin,
Whan ye shoud hae married me.’

10

‘Ye will bring here the bread, Henry,
And I will bring the wine,
And ye will drink to your ain love,
And I will drink to mine.’

11

‘I winna bring here the bread, fair maid,
Nor yet shall ye the wine,
Nor will I drink to my ain love,
Nor yet shall ye to thine.’

12

‘O mercy, mercy, Hynde Henry,
Until I lighter be!
Hae mercy on your brother's bairn,
Tho ye hae nane for me.’

13

‘Nae mercy is for thee, fair maid,
Nae mercy is for thee;
Such mercy unto you I'll gie
As what ye gae to me.’

14

Then he's taen out a trusty brand,
And stroakd it ower a strae,
And thro and thro her fair body
He's gart cauld iron gae.

15

Nae meen was made for that lady,
For she was lying dead;
But a' was for her bonny bairn,
Lay spartling by her side.

16

Then he's taen up the bonny bairn,
Handled him tenderlie,
And said, Ye are o my ain kin,
Tho your mother ill used me.

17

He's washen him at the crystal stream,
And rowd him in a weed,
And namd him after a bold robber
Who was calld Robin Hood.

18

Then brought to the next borough's town,
And gae him nurses three;
He grew as big in ae year auld
As some boys woud in three.

19

Then he was sent to guid squeel-house,
To learn how to thrive;
He learnd as muckle in ae year's time
As some boys would in five.

307

20

‘But I wonder, I wonder,’ said little Robin,
‘Gin eer a woman bare me;
For mony a lady spiers for the rest,
But nae ane spiers for me.

21

‘I wonder, I wonder,’ said little Robin,
‘Were I of woman born;
Whan ladies my comrades do caress,
They look at me wi scorn.’

22

It fell upon an evening-tide,
Was ae night by it lane,
Whan a' the boys frae guid squeel-house
Were merrily coming hame,

23

Robin parted frae the rest,
He wishd to be alane;
And when his comrades he dismist,
To guid greenwood he's gane.

24

When he came to guid greenwood,
He clamb frae tree to tree,
To pou some o the finest leaves,
For to divert him wi.

25

He hadna pu'd a leaf, a leaf,
Nor brak a branch but ane,
Till by it came him Hynde Henry,
And bade him lat alane.

26

‘You are too bauld a boy,’ he said,
‘Sae impudent you be,
As pu the leaves that's nae your ain,
Or yet to touch the tree.’

27

‘O mercy, mercy, gentleman,
O mercy hae on me!
For if that I offence hae done,
It was unknown to me.’

28

‘Nae boy comes here to guid greenwood
But pays a fine to me;
Your velvet coat, or shooting-bow,
Which o them will ye gie?’

29

‘My shooting-bow arches sae well,
Wi it I canno part;
Lest wer't to send a sharp arrow
To pierce you to the heart.’

30

He turnd him right and round about,
His countenance did change:
‘Ye seem to be a boy right bauld;
Why can ye talk sae strange?

31

‘I'm sure ye are the bauldest boy
That ever I talkd wi;
As for your mother, May-a-Roe,
She was neer sae bauld to me.’

32

‘O, if ye knew my mother,’ he said,
‘That's very strange to me;
And if that ye my mother knew,
It's mair than I coud dee.’

33

‘Sae well as I your mother knew,
Ance my sweet-heart was she;
Because to me she broke her vow,
This maid was slain by me.’

34

‘O, if ye slew my mother dear,
As I trust ye make nae lie,
I wyte ye never did the deed
That better paid shall be.’

35

‘O mercy, mercy, little Robin,
O mercy hae on me!’
‘Sic mercy as ye pae my mother,
Sic mercy I'll gie thee.

36

‘Prepare yourself, perfidious man,
For by my hand ye'se dee;
Now come's that bluidy butcher's end
Took my mother frae me.’

37

Then he hae chosen a sharp arrow,
That was baith keen and smart,
And let it fly at Hynde Henry,
And piercd him to the heart.

38

These news hae gaen thro Stirling town,
Likewise thro Hunting-ha;
At last it reachd the king's own court,
Amang the nobles a'.

39

When the king got word o that,
A light laugh then gae he,
And he's sent for him little Robin,
To come right speedilie.

40

He's putten on little Robin's head
A ribbon and gowden crown,
And made him ane o's finest knights,
For the valour he had done.

308

Lady Margerie

JELLON GRAME—D

[_]

Cromek's Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, p. 222.

[OMITTED]

1

D'ye mind, d'ye mind, Lady Margerie,
When we handed round the beer?
Seven times I fainted for your sake,
And you never dropt a tear.

2

‘D'ye mind, d'ye mind, Lady Margerie,
When we handed round the wine?
Seven times I fainted for your sake,
And you never fainted once for mine.’
[OMITTED]

3

And he's taen the baby out of her womb
And thrown it upon a thorn:
‘Let the wind blow east, let the wind blow west,
The cradle will rock its lone.’
[OMITTED]

4

But when brother Henry's cruel brand
Had done the bloody deed,
The silver-buttons flew off his coat,
And his nose began to bleed.
[OMITTED]

5

‘O I have been killing in the silver wood
What will breed mickle woe;
I have been killing in the silver wood
A dawdy and a doe.’
[OMITTED]

309

91
FAIR MARY OF WALLINGTON


311

Fair Mary of Wallington

FAIR MARY OF WALLINGTON—A

[_]

Lovely Jenny's Garland, three copies, as early as 1775, but without place or date.

1

When we were silly sisters seven.
sisters were so fair,
Five of us were brave knights' wives,
and died in childbed lair.

2

Up then spake Fair Mary,
marry woud she nane;
If ever she came in man's bed,
the same gate wad she gang.

3

‘Make no vows, Fair Mary,
for fear they broken be;
Here's been the Knight of Wallington,
asking good will of thee.’

4

‘If here's been the knight, mother,
asking good will of me,
Within three quarters of a year
you may come bury me.’

5

When she came to Wallington,
and into Wallington hall,
There she spy'd her mother dear,
walking about the wall.

6

‘You're welcome, daughter dear,
to thy castle and thy bowers;’
‘I thank you kindly, mother,
I hope they'll soon be yours.’

7

She had not been in Wallington
three quarters and a day,
Till upon the ground she could not walk,
she was a weary prey.

8

She had not been in Wallington
three quarters and a night,
Till on the ground she coud not walk,
she was a weary wight.

9

‘Is there neer a boy in this town,
who'll win hose and shun,
That will run to fair Pudlington,
and bid my mother come?’

10

Up then spake a little boy,
near unto a-kin;
‘Full oft I have your errands gone,
but now I will it run.’

11

Then she calld her waiting-maid
to bring up bread and wine:
‘Eat and drink, my bonny boy,
thou'll neer eat more of mine.

12

‘Give my respects to my mother,
[as] she sits in her chair of stone,
And ask her how she likes the news,
of seven to have but one.

13

[‘Give my respects to my mother,
as she sits in her chair of oak,
And bid her come to my sickening,
or my merry lake-wake.]

14

‘Give my love to my brother
William, Ralph, and John,
And to my sister Betty fair,
and to her white as bone.

15

‘And bid her keep her maidenhead,
be sure make much on't,
For if eer she come in man's bed,
the same gate will she gang.’

16

Away this little boy is gone,
as fast as he could run;
When he came where brigs were broke,
he lay down and swum.

17

When he saw the lady, he said,
Lord may your keeper be!
‘What news, my pretty boy,
hast thou to tell to me?’

18

‘Your daughter Mary orders me,
as you sit in a chair of stone,
To ask you how you like the news,
of seven to have but one.

19

‘Your daughter gives commands,
as you sit in a chair of oak,
And bids you come to her sickening,
or her merry lake-wake.

20

‘She gives command to her brother
William, Ralph, and John,
[And] to her sister Betty fair,
and to her white as bone.

21

‘She bids her keep her maidenhead,
be sure make much on't,

312

For if eer she came in man's bed,
the same gate woud she gang.’

22

She kickt the table with her foot,
she kickt it with her knee,
The silver plate into the fire,
so far she made it flee.

23

Then she calld her waiting-maid
to bring her riding-hood,
So did she on her stable-groom
to bring her riding-steed.

24

‘Go saddle to me the black [the black,]
go saddle to me the brown,
Go saddle to me the swiftest steed
that eer rid [to] Wallington.’

25

When they came to Wallington,
and into Wallington hall,
There she spy'd her son Fenwick,
walking about the wall.

26

‘God save you, dear son,
Lord may your keeper be!
Where is my daughter fair,
that used to walk with thee?’

27

He turnd his head round about,
the tears did fill his ee:
‘'Tis a month,’ he said, ‘since she
took her chambers from me.’

28

She went on [OMITTED]
and there were in the hall
Four and twenty ladies,
letting the tears down fall.

29

Her daughter had a scope
into her cheek and into her chin,
All to keep her life
till her dear mother came.

30

‘Come take the rings off my fingers,
the skin it is so white,
And give them to my mother dear,
for she was all the wite.

31

‘Come take the rings off my fingers,
the veins they are so red,
Give them to Sir William Fenwick,
I'm sure his heart will bleed.’

32

She took out a razor
that was both sharp and fine,
And out of her left side has taken
the heir of Wallington.

33

There is a race in Wallington,
and that I rue full sare;
Tho the cradle it be full spread up,
the bride-bed is left bare.

Lady Mazery

FAIR MARY OF WALLINGTON—B

[_]

Herd's MSS: a, I, 186; b, II, 89.

1

When we were sisters seven,
An five of us deyd wi child,
And there is nane but you and I, Mazery,
And we'll go madens mild.’

2

But there came knights, and there came squiers,
An knights of high degree;
She pleasd hersel in Levieston,
Thay wear a comly twa.

3

He has bought her rings for her fingers,
And garlands for her hair,
The broochis till her bosome braid;
What wad my love ha mair?
And he has brought her on to Livingston,
And made her lady thear.

4

She had na been in Liveingston
A twelvemonth and a day,
Till she was as big wi bairn
As ony lady could gae.

5

The knight he knocked his white fingers,
The goude rings flew in twa:
‘Halls and bowers they shall go wast
Ere my bonny love gie awa!’

6

The knight he knocked his white fingers,
The goude rings flew in foure:
‘Halls and bowers they shall go waste
Eren my bonny lady gie it ore!’

313

7

The knight he knocked his white fingers,
The lady[s] sewed and sung;
It was to comfort Lady Mazery,
But her life-days wear na long.

8

‘O whare will I get a bonny boy,
That will win both hoos and shoon,
That will win his way to Little Snoddown,
To my mother, the Queen?’

9

Up and stands a bonny boy,
Goude yellow was his hair;
I wish his mother mickle grace at him,
And his trew-love mickle mare.

10

‘Here am I a bonny boy,
That will win baith hoos an shoon,
That will win my way to Little Snoddown,
To thy mother, the Queen.’

11

‘Here is the rings frae my fingers,
The garlonds frae my hair,
The broches fray my bosom braid;
Fray me she'll nere get mare.

12

‘Here it is my weeding-goun,
It is a’ goude but the hem;
Gi it to my sister Allen,
For she is left now bird her lane.

13

‘When you come whare brigs is broken,
Ye'l bent your bow and swim;
An when ye come whare green grass grows,
Ye'l slack your shoon and run.

14

‘But when you come to yon castle,
Bide neither to chap nor ca,
But you'l set your bent bow to your breast,
And lightly loup the wa,
And gin the porter be half-gate,
Ye'll be ben throw the ha.’

15

O when he came whare brigs was broken,
He bent his bow and swam;
An when he came where green grass grows,
He slackd his shoon an ran.

16

And when he came to yon castel,
He stayed neither to chap no ca'l,
But bent his bow unto his breast,
And lightly lap the wa'l;
And gin the porter was hafe-gate,
He was ben throw the ha'l.

17

‘O peace be to you, ladys a'l!
As ye sit at your dine
Ye ha little word of Lady Mazerë,
For she drees mickel pine.

18

‘Here is the rings frae her fingers,
The garlands frae her hair,
The broches frae her bosome brade;
Fray her ye'l nere get mare.

19

‘Here it is her weeding-goun,
It is a' goude but the hem;
Ye'll ge it to her sister Allen,
For she is left bird her lane.’

20

She ca'd the table wi her foot,
And coped it wi her tae,
Till siller cups an siller cans
Unto the floor did gae.

21

‘Ye wash, ye wash, ye bonny boy,
Ye wash, and come to dine;
It does not fit a bonny boy
His errant for to tine.

22

‘Ge saddle to me the black, the black,
Ge saddle to me the brown,
Ge saddle to me the swiftest steed
That ever rid frae a town.’

23

The first steed they saddled to her,
He was the bonny black;
He was a good steed, an a very good steed,
But he tiyird ere he wan the town.

24

The next steed they saddled to her,
He was the bonny brown;
He was a good steed, an a very good steed,
But he tiyird ere he wan the town.

25

The next steed they saddled to her,
He was the bonny white;
Fair fa the mair that fo'd the fole
That carried her to Mazeree['s] lear!

26

As she gaed in at Leivingston,
Thair was na mickel pride;
The scobs was in her lovely mouth,
And the razer in her side.

27

‘O them that marrys your daughter, lady,
I think them but a foole;
A married man at Martimass,
An a widdow the next Yule!’

314

28

‘O hold your toung now, Livingston,
Let all your folly abee;
I bear the burden in my breast,
Mun suffer them to dee.’

29

Out an speaks her Bird Allen,
For she spake ay through pride;
‘That man shall near be born,’ she says,
‘That shall ly down by my side.’

30

‘O hold your toung now, Bird Allen,
Let all your folly abee;
For you shall marry a man,’ she says,
‘Tho ye shoud live but rathes three.’

The Bonny Earl of Livingston

FAIR MARY OF WALLINGTON—C

[_]

Alexander Fraser Tytler's Brown MS., No 5.

1

O we were sisters seven, Maisry,
And five are dead wi child;
There is nane but you and I, Maisry,
And we'll go maidens mild.’

2

She hardly had the word spoken,
And turnd her round about,
When the bonny Earl of Livingston
Was calling Maisry out.

3

Upon a bonny milk-white steed,
That drank out of the Tyne,
And a' was for her Ladie Maisry,
To take her hyne and hyne.

4

Upon a bonny milk-white steed,
That drank out o the Tay,
And a' was for her Lady Maisry,
To carry her away.

5

She had not been at Livingston
A twelve month and a day,
Until she was as big wi bairn
As any ladie coud gae.

6

She calld upon her little foot-page,
Says, Ye maun run wi speed,
And bid my mother come to me,
For of her I'll soon have need.

7

‘See, there is the brootch frae my hause-bane,
It is of gowd sae ried;
Gin she winna come when I'm alive,
Bid her come when I am dead.’

8

But ere she wan to Livingston,
As fast as she coud ride,
The gaggs they were in Maisry's mouth,
And the sharp sheers in her side.

9

Her good lord wrang his milk-white hands,
Till the gowd rings flaw in three:
‘Let ha's and bowers and a' gae waste,
My bonny love's taen frae me!’

10

‘O hold your tongue, Lord Livingston,
Let a' your mourning be;
For I bare the bird between my sides,
Yet I maun thole her to die.’

11

Then out it spake her sister dear,
As she sat at her head:
‘That man is not in Christendoom
Shall gar me die sicken dead.’

12

‘O hold your tongue, my ae daughter,
Let a' your folly be,
For ye shall be married ere this day week
Tho the same death you should die.’

The Laird o Livingstone

FAIR MARY OF WALLINGTON—D

[_]

Dr John Hill Burton's MS., No 2.

1

Here it is was sisters seven,
And five is died with child;
Was non but you and I, Hellen,
And we'se be maidens mild.’

2

They hadna been maidens o bonny Snawdon
A twalvemonth and a day,
When lairds and lords a courting came,
Seeking Mary away.

3

The bonny laird of Livingstone,
He liket Mary best;
He gae her a ring, a royal ring,
And he wedded her at last.

315

4

She hed na been lady o Livingstone
A twalvemonth and a day,
When she did go as big wi bairn
As iver a woman could be.
[OMITTED]

7

The knights were wringin their white fingers,
And the ladys wer tearin their hair;
It was a' for the lady o Livingstone,
For a word she never spake mare.

8

Out and spake her sister Hellen,
Where she sat by her side;
‘The man shall never be born,’ she said,
‘Shall ever make me his bride.

9

‘The man,’ she said, ‘that would merry me,
I'de count him but a feel,
To merry me at Whitsunday,
And bury me at Yele.’

10

Out and spak her mother dear,
Whare she sat by the fire:
‘I bare this babe now from my side,
Maun suffer her to die.

11

‘And I have six boys now to my oyes,
And none of them were born,
But a hole cut in their mother's side,
And they from it were shorne.’

12

[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

Mild Mary

FAIR MARY OF WALLINGTON—E

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 123, from the recitation of Mrs Macqueen, Lochwinnoch.

1

Arise, arise, dochter,’ she said,
‘My bidding to obey;
The bravest lord in all Scotland
This night asked you of me.’

2

‘O haud your tongue, mother,’ she said,
‘These words they do me wrang;
For gin I lye in a man's bed,
My days will no be land.

3

‘There were seven sisters o us a',
We were a' clad in white;
And five of them were married,
And in child-bed they died.’

4

‘Ye shall not be drest in black,
Nor sall ye be in broun;
But ye'se be drest in shining gowd,
To gae glittering thro the town.

5

‘Your father sall ride before you,’ she said,
‘And your brother sall ride ahin;
Your horses fore-feet siller shod,
And his hind anes wi gowd shall shine.

6

‘Wi four and twenty buirdlie men
Atween ye and the wun,
And four and twenty bonnie mays
Atween ye and the sun.

7

‘Four and twenty milk-white geese,
Stretching their wings sae wide,
Blawing the dust aff the high-way,
That Mild Mary may ride.’

8

They took to them their milk-white steeds,
Set her upon a grey,
And wi a napkin in her hand
Weeping she rade away.

9

O they rade on that lee-lang nicht,
And part o the neist day also,
And syne she saw her auld good mother
Stand in the gates below.

10

‘You'r welcome, welcome, dochter,’ she said,
‘To your biggins and your bowers;’
‘I thank ye kindly, mither,’ she said,
‘But I doubt they'll sune be yours.’
[OMITTED]

316

Lord Darlington

FAIR MARY OF WALLINGTON—F

[_]

a. Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 183. b. The Borderer's Table Book, VII, 178, communicated by J. H. Dixon; “transcribed from a MS. copy in possession of an antiquarian friend,” collated with a.

1

O we were seven brave sisters,
Five of us died wi child,
And nane but you and I, Maisry,
So we'll gae maidens mild.’

2

‘O had your tongue, now Lady Margaret,
Let a' your folly be;
I'll gar you keep your true promise
To the lad ayont the sea.’

3

‘O there is neither lord nor knight
My love shall ever won,
Except it be Lord Darlington,
And here he winna come.’

4

But when the hour o twall was past,
And near the hour o one,
Lord Darlington came to the yetts,
Wi thirty knights and ten.

5

Then he has wedded Lady Margaret,
And brought her oer the sea,
And there was nane that lived on earth
Sae happy as was she.

6

But when nine months were come and gahe
Strong travailling took she,
And nae physician in the land
Could ease her maladie.

7

‘Where will I get a little wee boy,
Will won baith meat and fee,
That will gae on to Seaton's yetts,
Bring my mother to me?’

8

‘O here am I, a little wee boy,
That will won meat and fee,
That will gae on to Seaton's yetts,
And bring your mother to thee.’

9

Then he is on to Seaton's yetts,
As fast as gang could he;
Says, Ye must come to Darlington,
Your daughter for to see.

10

But when she came to Darlington,
Where there was little pride,
The scobbs were in the lady's mouth,
The sharp sheer in her side.

11

Darlington stood on the stair,
And gart the gowd rings flee:
‘My ha's and bowers and a' shall gae waste,
If my bonny love die for me.’

12

‘O had your tongue, Lord Darlington,
Let a' your folly be;
I boor the bird within my sides,
I'll suffer her to die.

13

‘But he that marries my daughter,
I think he is a fool;
If he marries her at Candlemas,
She'll be frae him ere Yule.

14

‘I had seven ance in companie,
This night I go my lane;
And when I come to Clyde's water,
I wish that I may drown.’


The Lady of Livenston

FAIR MARY OF WALLINGTON—G

[_]

From “The Old Lady's Collection,” No. 32.

1

‘We was sisters, we was seven,
Five of us dayed we child,
An you an me, Burd Ellen,
Sall live maidens mild.’

2

Ther came leards, an ther came lords,
An knights of high degree,
A' courting Lady Messry,
Bat it widne deei.

3

Bat the bonny lord of Livenston,
He was flour of them a',
The bonny lord of Livenston,
He stole the lady awaa.

4

Broad was the horses hoves
That dumped the water of Clide,
An a' was for honor of that gay lady
That day she was Livenston's bride.

5

Fan she came to Livenston
Mukell mirth was ther;
The knights knaked ther whit fingers
The ladys curled ther hear.

6

She had no ben in Livenston
A tuall-month an a day,
Till she was as big we bearn
As a lady coud gaa.

7

She had ne ben in Livenston
A tuall-month an a hour,
Till for the morning of the may
The couldne ane come near her bour.

8

‘Far will I gett a bonny boy
That will rean my earend shoun,
That will goo to leve London,
To my mother, the quin?’

9

‘Hear am I, a bonny boy
Will rin yer earend sune,


That will rin on to fair London,
To yer mother, the quin.’

10

‘Hear is the bruch fra my breast-bane,
The garlands fra my hear;
Ye ge that to my mider,
Fra me she'll never gett mare.

11

‘Hear is the rosses fra my shoun,
The ribbons fra my hear;
Ye gee that to my mider,
Fra me she'll never gett mare.

12

‘Hear is my briddel-stand,
It is a' goud to the heam;
Ye gie that to Burd Ellen,
Forbed her to marry men.

13

‘Ye bid them and ye pray them bath,
If they will dou it for my sake,
If they be not att my death,
To be att my leak-wake.

14

‘Ye bid them and ye pray them baith,
If they will dou it for my name,
If they be not att my leak-wake,
To be att my birrien.’

15

Fan he came to grass grouen,
He strated his bou an rane,
An fan he came to brigs broken
He slaked his bou an swam.

16

An fan he came to yon castell,
He bad nether to chap nor caa,
But sait his bent bou to his breast
An lightly lap the waa;
Or the porter was att the gate,
The boy was in the haa.

17

‘Mukell meatt is on yer table, lady,
An littil of it is eaten,
Bat the bonny lady of Livenston
Ye have her clean forgotten.’

18

‘Ye lie, ye lie, ye bonny boy,
Sae loud as I hear ye lie;
Mukell ha I sold the [meatt],
An littel hae I bought,
Batt the bonny lady of Livenston
Gaas never out of my thought.

19

‘Mukell have I bought, bonny boy,
An littel haa I sale,
Bat the bonny lady of Livenston
She couls my heart fue cale.’

20

‘Hear is the ribbings fra her hear,
The roses fra her shoun;
I was bidden gie that to her midder,
To her midder, the quin.

21

‘Hear is the bruch fra her breast-bean,
The garlands frae her hear;
I was bidden gee that to her mother,
Fra her she'll never gett mare.

22

‘Hear is her bridell-stand,
The'r a' goud to the heam;
I was bidden ga that to Burd Ellen,
Forbid her to marry man.

23

‘She bids ye an she prays ye bath,
Gin yee'll di et for her sake,
If ye be not att her death,
To be att her leak-wake.

24

‘She bidds yee an she prays ye bath,
Gine ye'll dou et for her name,
If ye be not att her leak-wake,
To be at her burrien.’

25

‘Garr saddell to me the blak,
Saddle to me the broun,
Gar saddel to me the suiftest stead
That ever read fraa a toun,
Till I gaa to Livenston
An see hou Measry fairs.’

26

The first stead was saddled to her,
It was the bonny black;
She spured him aftt and she spared him na,
An she tayened him at a slap.

27

The neast stead that was saddled to her
Was the berrey-broun;
She spured him aftt an she spared him not,
An she tayned him att a toun.

28

The neast an steed that was saddled to her,
It was the milk-white:
‘Fair faa the mear that folled the foll
Had me to Meassry's leak!’

29

Fan she came to Livenston,
Mukel dolle was ther;
The knights wrang ther whit fingers,
The ladys tore ther hear.


30

The knights they wrang ther whit fingers,
The rings they flue in four:
‘Latt haas an tours an a' doun fau!
My dear thing has gine it our.’

31

Out spak him Livenston,
An a sorry man was he;
‘I had rader lost the lands of Livenston,
Afor my gay lady.’

32

‘Had yer toung nou, Livenston,
An latt yer folly be;
I bare the burd in my bosom,
I man thole to see her diee.’

33

Fan she came to her doughter's boure,
Ther was littel pride;
The scoups was in her doughter's mouth,
An the sharp shirrs in her side.

34

Out spake her Burd Ellen,
An she spake ay threu pride;
The wife sall never bear the sin
Sall lay doun by my side.

35

‘Had your toung nou, Burd Ellen,
Ye latt yer folly a be;
Dinnë ye mind that ye promised yer love
To him that is ayond the seaa?’

36

‘Hold yer toung, my mother,
Ye speak just leak a fooll;
Tho I wer marred att Martimes,
I wad be dead or Yeull.’

37

‘I have five bonny oyes att heam,
Ther was never ane of them born,
Bat every ane of them
Out of ther midder's sides shorn.’

317

92
BONNY BEE HOM


318

Bonny Bee Ho'm

BONNY BEE HOM—A

[_]

Alexander Fraser Tytler's Brown MS., No 6.

1

By Arthur's Dale as late I went
I heard a heavy moan;
I heard a ladie lammenting sair,
And ay she cried Ohone!

2

‘Ohon, alas! what shall I do,
Tormented night and day!
I never loved a love but ane,
And now he's gone away.

3

‘But I will do for my true-love
What ladies woud think sair;
For seven year shall come and go
Ere a kaim gang in my hair.

4

‘There shall neither a shoe gang on my foot,
Nor a kaim gang in my hair,
Nor eer a coal nor candle-light
Shine in my bower nae mair.’

5

She thought her love had been on the sea,
Fast sailling to Bee Hom;
But he was in a quiet chamer,
Hearing his ladie's moan.

6

‘Be husht, be husht, my ladie dear,
I pray thee mourn not so;
For I am deep sworn on a book
To Bee Hom for to go.’

7

She has gien him a chain of the beaten gowd,
And a ring with a ruby stone:
‘As lang as this chain your body binds,
Your blude can never be drawn.

8

‘But gin this ring shoud fade or fail,
Or the stone shoud change its hue,
Be sure your love is dead and gone,
Or she has proved untrue.’

9

He had no been at Bonny Bee Hom
A twelve month and a day,
Till, looking on his gay gowd ring,
The stone grew dark and gray.

10

‘O ye take my riches to Bee Hom,
And deal them presentlie,
To the young that canna, the auld that maunna.
And the blind that does not see.’

11

Now death has come into his bower,
And split his heart in twain;
So their twa souls flew up to heaven,
And there shall ever remain.

319

The Enchanted Ring

BONNY BEE HOM—B

[_]

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 169.

1

In Lauderdale I chanc'd to walk,
And heard a lady's moan,
Lamenting for her dearest dear,
And aye she cried, Ohon!

2

‘Sure never a maid that eer drew breath
Had harder fate than me;
I'd never a lad but one on earth,
They forc'd him to the sea.

3

‘The ale shall neer be brewin o malt,
Neither by sea nor land,
That ever mair shall cross my hause,
Till my love comes to hand.

4

‘A handsome lad, wi shoulders broad,
Gold yellow was his hair;
None of our Scottish youths on earth
That with him could compare.’

5

She thought her love was gone to sea,
And landed in Bahome;
But he was in a quiet chamber,
Hearing his lady's moan.

6

‘Why make ye all this moan, lady?
Why make ye all this moan?
For I'm deep sworn on a book,
I must go to Bahome.

7

‘Traitors false for to subdue
Oer seas I'll make me boun,
That have trepand our kind Scotchmen,
Like dogs to ding them down.’

8

‘Weell, take this ring, this royal thing,
Whose virtue is unknown;
As lang's this ring's your body on,
Your blood shall neer be drawn.

9

‘But if this ring shall fade or stain,
Or change to other hue,
Come never mair to fair Scotland,
If ye're a lover true.’

10

Then this couple they did part,
With a sad heavy moan;
The wind was fair, the ship was rare,
They landed in Bahome.

11

But in that place they had not been
A month but barely one,
Till he lookd on his gay gold ring,
And riven was the stone.

12

Time after this was not expir'd
A month but scarcely three,
Till black and ugly was the ring,
And the stone was burst in three.

13

‘Fight on, fight on, you merry men all,
With you I'll fight no more;
I will gang to some holy place,
Pray to the King of Glore.’

14

Then to the chapel he is gone,
And knelt most piteouslie,
For seven days and seven nights,
Till blood ran frae his knee.

15

‘Ye'll take my jewels that's in Bahome,
And deal them liberallie,
To young that cannot, and old that mannot,
The blind that does not see.

16

‘Give maist to women in child-bed laid,
Can neither fecht nor flee;
I hope she's in the heavens high,
That died for love of me.’

17

The knights they wrang their white fingers,
The ladies tore their hair;
The women that neer had children born,
In swoon they down fell there.

18

But in what way the knight expir'd,
No tongue will eer declare;
So this doth end my mournful song,
From me ye'll get nae mair.

320

93
LAMKIN


321

Lamkin

LAMKIN—A

[_]

Jamieson's Popular Ballads, I, 176, communicated by Mrs Brown.

1

It's Lamkin was a mason good
as ever built wi stane;
He built Lord Wearie's castle,
but payment got he nane.

2

‘O pay me, Lord Wearie,
come, pay me my fee:’
‘I canna pay you, Lamkin,
for I maun gang oer the sea.’

3

‘O pay me now, Lord Wearie,
come, pay me out o hand:’

322

‘I canna pay you, Lamkin,
unless I sell my land.’

4

‘O gin ye winna pay me,
I here sall mak a vow,
Before that ye come hame again,
ye sall hae cause to rue.’

5

Lord Wearie got a bonny ship,
to sail the saut sea faem;
Bade his lady weel the castle keep,
ay till he should come hame.

6

But the nourice was a fause limmer
as eer hung on a tree;
She laid a plot wi Lamkin,
whan her lord was oer the sea.

7

She laid a plot wi Lamkin,
when the servants were awa,
Loot him in at a little shot-window,
and brought him to the ha.

8

‘O whare's a' the men o this house,
that ca me Lamkin?’
‘They're at the barn-well thrashing;
'twill be lang ere they come in.’

9

‘And whare's the women o this house,
that ca me Lamkin?’
‘They're at the far well washing;
'twill be lang ere they come in.’

10

‘And whare's the bairns o this house,
that ca me Lamkin?’
‘They're at the school reading;
'twill be night or they come hame.’

11

‘O whare's the lady o this house,
that ca's me Lamkin?’
‘She's up in her bower sewing,
but we soon can bring her down.’

12

Then Lamkin's tane a sharp knife,
that hang down by his gaire,
And he has gien the bonny babe
a deep wound and a sair.

13

Then Lamkin he rocked,
and the fause nourice sang,
Till frae ilkae bore o the cradle
the red blood out sprang.

14

Then out it spak the lady,
as she stood on the stair:
‘What ails my bairn, nourice,
that he's greeting sae sair?

15

‘O still my bairn, nourice,
O still him wi the pap!’
‘He winna still, lady,
for this nor for that.’

16

‘O still my bairn, nourice,
O still him wi the wand!’
‘He winna still, lady,
for a' his father's land.’

17

‘O still my bairn, nourice,
O still him wi the bell!’
‘He winna still, lady,
till ye come down yoursel.’

18

O the firsten step she steppit,
she steppit on a stane;
But the neisten step she steppit,
she met him Lamkin.

19

‘O mercy, mercy, Lamkin,
hae mercy upon me!
Though you've taen my young son's life,
ye may let mysel be.’

20

‘O sall I kill her, nourice,
or sall I lat her be?’
‘O kill her, kill her, Lamkin,
for she neer was good to me.’

21

‘O scour the bason, nourice,
and mak it fair and clean,
For to keep this lady's heart's blood,
for she's come o noble kin.’

22

‘There need nae bason, Lamkin,
lat it run through the floor;
What better is the heart's blood
o the rich than o the poor?’

23

But ere three months were at an end,
Lord Wearie came again;
But dowie, dowie was his heart
when first he came hame.

24

‘O wha's blood is this,’ he says,
‘that lies in the chamer?’

323

‘It is your lady's heart's blood;
'tis as clear as the lamer.’

25

‘And wha's blood is this,’ he says,
‘that lies in my ha?’
‘It is your young son's heart's blood;
'tis the clearest ava.’

26

O sweetly sang the black-bird
that sat upon the tree;
But sairer grat Lamkin,
when he was condemnd to die.

27

And bonny sang the mavis,
out o the thorny brake;
But sairer grat the nourice,
when she was tied to the stake.

Lambert Linkin

LAMKIN—B

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 15; from the recitation of Mrs Thomson, Kilbarchan, February 25, 1825.

1

Balankin was as gude a mason
as eer picked a stane;
He built up Prime Castle,
but payment gat nane.

2

The lord said to his lady,
when he was going abroad,
O beware of Balankin,
for he lyes in the wood.

3

The gates they were bolted,
baith outside and in;
At the sma peep of a window
Balankin crap in.

4

‘Good morrow, good morrow,’
said Lambert Linkin:
‘Good morrow to yoursell, sir,’
said the false nurse to him.

5

‘O where is your good lord?’
said Lambert Linkin:
‘He's awa to New England,
to meet with his king.’

6

‘O where is his auld son?’
said Lambert Linkin:
‘He's awa to buy pearlings,
gin our lady lye in.’

7

‘Then she'll never wear them,’
said Lambert Linkin:
‘And that is nae pity,’
said the false nurse to him.

8

‘O where is your lady?’
said Lambert Linkin:
‘She's in her bower sleeping,’
said the false nurse to him.

9

‘How can we get at her?’
said Lambert Linkin:
‘Stab the babe to the heart,
wi a silver bokin.’

10

‘That would be a pity,’
said Lambert Linkin:
‘No pity, no pity,’
said the false nurse to him.

11

Balankin he rocked,
and the false nurse she sang,
Till all the tores of the cradle
wi the red blood down ran.

12

‘O still my babe, nurice,
O still him wi the knife!’
‘He'll no be still, lady,
tho I lay doun my life.’

13

‘O still my babe, nurice,
O still him wi the kame!’
‘He'll no be still, lady,
till his daddy come hame.’

14

‘O still my babe, nurice,
O still him wi the bell!’
‘He'll no be still, lady,
till ye come doun yoursell.’

15

‘It's how can I come down,
this cauld winter nicht,
Without eer a coal,
or a clear candle-licht?’

16

‘There's two smocks in your coffer,
as white as a swan;
Put one of them about you,
it will shew you licht down.’

324

17

She took ane o them about her,
and came tripping doun;
But as soon as she viewed,
Balankin was in.

18

‘Good morrow, good morrow,’
said Lambert Linkin:
‘Good morrow to yoursell, sir,’
said the lady to him.

19

‘O save my life, Balankin,
till my husband come back,
And I'll gie you as much red gold
as you'll hold in your hat.’

20

‘I'll not save your life, lady,
till your husband come back,
Tho you would give me as much red gold
as I could hold in a sack.

21

‘Will I kill her?’ quo Balankin,
‘will I kill her, or let her be?’
‘You may kill her,’ said the false nurse,
‘she was neer good to me;
And ye'll be laird of the castle,
and I'll be ladie.’

22

Then he cut aff her head
fram her lily breast-bane,
And he hung't up in the kitchen,
it made a' the ha shine.

23

The lord sat in England,
a drinking the wine:
‘I wish a' may be weel
with my lady at hame;
For the rings of my fingers
the're now burst in twain!’

24

He saddled his horse,
and he came riding doun,
But as soon as he viewed,
Balankin was in.

25

He had na weel stepped
twa steps up the stair,
Till he saw his pretty young son
lying dead on the floor.

26

He had not weel stepped
other twa up the stair,
Till he saw his pretty lady
lying dead in despair.

27

He hanged Balankin
out over the gate,
And he burnt the fause nurice,
being under the grate.

Lamerlinkin

LAMKIN—C

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 9: from Edward King, weaver, Kilbarchan, taken from the recitation of his mother, an old woman.

1

Lamerlinkin, as gude a mason
as eer laid a stane,
Built a house to Lord Arran,
but entrance had nane.

2

Says the lord to his lady,
when going abroad,
Take care of Lamerlinkin,
wha bides in the wood.

3

‘I care not for Lamkin,
nor none of his kin;
My house is plastered outside,
and bolted within.’

4

The gates they were locked,
baith outside and in,
But there was a wee hole
that let Lamkin creep in.

5

‘Good woman, good woman,’
said Lamerlinkin:
‘Good woman, good woman,’
said the fause nurse to him.

6

‘Where's the lord o this house?
is he not within?’
‘He's up in Old England,
he's dining wi the king.’

7

‘Where's the lady of this house?
or is she not within?’
‘She's up in her high room,
and cannot come down.’

325

8

‘Where is the maids o this house?
or are they not within?’
‘They are at the well washing,
and cannot get in.’

9

‘Where is the men o this house?
or are they not within?’
‘They are at the barn threshing,
and cannot win hame.’

10

‘O what will I do,
to mak her come doun?’
‘We'll kill her auld son,
to mak her come doun.’

11

He took out a pen-knife,
baith pointed and sharp,
And he stabbed the babie
three times in the heart.

12

Lamerlinkin did rock,
and the fause nurse did sing;
Ower the four-cornered cradle
the red blood did spring.

13

‘O please my babie, nurse,
O please him wi wands!’
‘He'll no be pleased, madam,
for a' his father's lands.’

14

‘O please my babie, nurse,
O please him wi keys!’
‘He'll no be pleased, madam,
let me do what I please.’

15

‘O please my babie, nurse,
O please him with bells!’
‘He'll no be pleased, madam,
till you come down yoursell.

16

‘How can I come doun
this cold frosty night,
Without coal or candle
for to shew me light?’

17

‘The gold rings on your finger
are bright as the sun;
You may see to cum doun the stair
with the light o them.’

18

O then she came doun the stair,
stepping step by step;
So ready was Lamkin
to grip her in his lap.

19

‘Save my life, Lamkin,
till five minutes break,
And I'll give thee gold,
the fu o a peck.’

20

‘I'll no save your life,
till five minutes break,
Tho thou should give me gold,
the fu of a sack.’

21

‘O Jeany, O Jeany,
O scour the bason clean,
That your lady's noble blood
may be kepped clean.’

22

‘O no, no, no, Lambkin,
my heart will be sare;
O take my life, Lambkin,
let my lady go.’
[OMITTED]

23

He sent for the false nurse,
to give her her fee;
All the fee that he gave her
was to hang her on a tree.

24

He sent for Lamerlinkin,
to give him his hire;
All the hire that he gave him
was to burn him in the fire.

326

Bold Rankin

LAMKIN—D

[_]

Maidment's New Book of Old Ballads, p. 73, No XX; Whitelaw's Book of Scottish Ballads, p. 246, No V: from a manuscript copy, in the possession of W. H. Logan, Edinburgh, derived from oral tradition.

1

Said the lord to his lady,
Beware of Rankin;
For I am going to England,
to wait on the king.

2

‘No fears, no fears,’
said the lady, said she,
‘For the doors shall be bolted,
and the windows pindee.

3

‘Go bar all the windows,
both outside and in;
Don't leave a window open,
to let Bold Rankin in.’

4

She has barred all the windows,
both outside and in;
But she left one of them open,
to let Bold Rankin in.

5

‘O where is the master of this house?’
said Bold Rankin;
‘He's up in Old England,’
said the false nurse to him.

6

‘O where is the mistress of this house?’
said Bold Rankin;
‘She's up in the chamber sleeping,’
said the false nurse to him.

7

‘O how shall we get her down?’
said Bold Rankin;
‘By piercing the baby,’
said the false nurse to him.

8

‘Go please the baby, nursy,
go please it with a bell;’
‘It will not be pleased, madam,
till you come down yoursel.’

9

‘How can I come down stairs,
so late into the night,
Without coal or candle,
to shew me the light?

10

‘There is a silver bolt
lies on the chest-head;
Give it to the baby,
give it sweet milk and bread.’

11

She rammed the silver bolt
up the baby's nose,
Till the blood it came trinkling
down the baby's fine clothes.

12

‘Go please the baby, nursie,
go please it with the bell:’
‘It will not please, madam,
till you come down yoursel.

13

‘It will neither please with breast-milk,
nor yet with pap;
But I pray, loving lady,
Come and roll it in your lap.’

14

The first step she stepit,
she steppit on a stone;
And the next step she stepit,
she met Bold Rankin.

15

‘O Rankin, O Rankin,
spare me till twelve o'clock,
And I will give you as many guineas
as you can carry on your back.’

16

‘What care I for as many guineas
as seeds into a sack,
When I cannot keep my hands off
your lily-white neck?’

17

‘O will I kill her, nursie,
or let her abee?’
‘O kill her,’ said the false nurse,
‘she was never good to me.’

18

‘Go scour the bason, lady,
both outside and in,
To hold your mother's heart's blood,
sprung from a noble kin.’

19

‘To hold my mother's heart's blood
would make my heart full woe;
O rather kill me, Rankin,
and let my mother go.’

20

‘Go scour the bason, servants,
both outside and in,
To hold your lady's heart's blood,
sprung from a noble kin.’

327

21

‘To hold my lady's heart's blood
would make my heart full woe;
O rather kill me, Rankin,
and let my lady go.’

22

‘Go scour the bason, nursy,
both outside and in,
To hold your lady's heart's blood,
sprung from a noble kin.’

23

‘To hold my lady's heart's blood
would make my heart full glad;
Ram in the knife, Bold Rankin,
and gar the blood to shed.

24

‘She's none of my comrades,
she's none of my kin;
Ram in the knife, Bold Rankin,
and gar the blood rin.’

25

‘O will I kill her, nursy,
or let her abee?’
‘O kill her,’ said the false nurse,
‘she was never good to me.’
[OMITTED]

26

‘I wish my wife and family
may be all well at home;
For the silver buttons of my coat
they will not stay on.’

27

As Betsy was looking
oer her window so high,
She saw her dear father
come riding by.

28

‘O father, dear father,
don't put the blame on me
It was false nurse and Rankin
that killed your lady.’

29

O was n't that an awful sight,
when he came to the stair,
To see his fairest lady
lie bleeding there!

30

The false nurse was burnt
on the mountain hill-head,
And Rankin was boiled
in a pot full of lead.

Lambkin

LAMKIN—E

[_]

Kinloch MSS, V, 246, from Mary Barr.

1

Lambkin was as good a mason
as ever laid stone;
He builded Lord Montgomery's castle,
but payment got none.

2

He builded the castle
without and within;
But he left an open wake
for himself to get in.

3

Lord Montgomery said to his lady,
when he went abroad,
Take care of Bold Lambkin,
for he is in the wood.

4

‘Gar bolt the gate, nourice,
without and within,
Leave not the wake open,
to let Bold Lambkin in.’

5

She bolted the gates,
without and within,
But she left the wake open,
to let Bold Lambkin in.

6

‘Gude morrow, gude morrow,’
says Bold Lambkin then;
‘Gude morrow, gude morrow,’
says the false nurse to him.

7

‘Where is Lord Montgomery?
or where is he gone?’
‘He is gone up to England,
to wait on the king.’

8

‘Where are the servants?
and where are they gone?’
‘They are all up to England,
to wait upon him.’

9

‘Where is your lady?
or where is she gone?’
‘She is in her bower sitting,
and sewing her seam.’

328

10

‘O what shall we do
for to make her come down?’
‘We'll kill the pretty baby,
that's sleeping so sound.’

11

Lambkin he rocked,
and the false nurse she sung,
And she stabbed the babe to the heart
with a silver bodkin.

12

‘O still my babe, nourice,
O still him with the pap:’
‘He'll no be stilled, madam,
for this nor for that.’

13

‘O still my babe, nourice,
go still him with the keys:’
‘He'll no be stilled, madam,
let me do what I please.’

14

‘O still my babe, nourice,
go still him with the bell:’
‘He'll no be stilled, madam,
till you come down yoursel.’

15

‘How can I come down,
this cold winter night,
When there's neither coal burning,
nor yet candle-light?’

16

‘The sark on your back
is whiter than the swan;
Come down the stair, lady,
by the light of your hand.’

17

The lady she cam down
the stair trip for trap;
Who so ready as Bold Lambkin
to meet her in the dark?

18

‘Gude morrow, gude morrow,’
said Bold Lambkin then;
‘Gude morrow, gude morrow,’
said the lady to him.

19

‘O where is Lord Montgomery?
or where is he gone?’
‘O he is up to England,
to wait on the king.’

20

‘O where are your servants?
or where are they gone?’
‘They are all up to England,
to wait upon him.

21

‘I'll give you as much gold, Lambkin,
as you'll put in a peck,
If you'll spare my life
till my lord comes back.’

22

‘Tho you would [give] me as much
as I could put in a sack,
I would not spare thy life
till thy lord comes back.’

23

Lord Montgomery sate in England,
drinking with the king;
The buttons flew off his coat,
all in a ring.

24

‘God prosper, God prosper
my lady and son!
For before I get home
they will all be undone.’

Long Lankyn

LAMKIN—F

[_]

a. Notes and Queries, Second Series, II, 324, as sung by a nurse nearly a century ago [1856] in Northumberland. b. Notes and Queries, Fourth Series, II, p. 281, from Northamptonshire, communicated by Mr B. H. Cowper.

1

Said my lord to his ladye,
as he mounted his horse, (bis)
Take care of Long Lankyn,
who lies in the moss. (bis)

2

Said my lord to his ladye,
as he rode away,
Take care of Long Lankyn,
who lies in the clay.

3

Let the doors be all bolted,
and the windows all pinned,
And leave not a hole
for a mouse to creep in.

4

Then he kissed his fair ladye,
and he rode away;
He must be in London
before break of day.

329

5

The doors were all bolted,
and the windows were pinned,
All but one little window,
where Long Lankyn crept in.

6

‘Where is the lord of this house?’
said Long Lankyn:
‘He is gone to fair London,’
said the false nurse to him.

7

‘Where is the ladye of this house?’
said Long Lankyn:
‘She's asleep in her chamber,’
said the false nurse to him.

8

‘Where is the heir of this house?’
said Long Lankyn:
‘He's asleep in his cradle,’
said the false nurse to him.
[OMITTED]

9

‘We'll prick him, and prick him,
all over with a pin,
And that will make your ladye
to come down to him.’

10

So he pricked him and pricked,
all over with a pin,
And the nurse held a basin
for the blood to run in.

11

‘Oh nurse, how you sleep!
Oh nurse, how you snore!
And you leave my little son Johnstone
to cry and to roar.’

12

‘I've tried him with suck,
and I've tried him with pap;
So come down, my fair ladye,
and nurse him in your lap.’

13

‘Oh nurse, how you sleep!
Oh nurse, how you snore!
And you leave my little son Johnstone
to cry and to roar.’

14

‘I've tried him with apples,
I've tried him with pears;
So come down, my fair ladye,
and rock him in your chair.’

15

‘How can I come down,
'tis so late in the night,
When there's no candle burning,
nor fire to give light?’

16

‘You have three silver mantles
as bright as the sun;
So come down, my fair ladye,
by the light of one.’
[OMITTED]

17

‘Oh spare me, Long Lankyn,
oh spare me till twelve o'clock,
You shall have as much gold
as you can carry on your back.’

18

‘If I had as much gold
as would build me a tower,’
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

19

‘Oh spare me, Long Lankyn,
oh spare me one hour,
You shall have my daughter Betsy,
she is a sweet flower.’

20

‘Where is your daughter Betsy?
she may do some good;
She can hold the silver basin,
to catch your heart's blood.’
[OMITTED]

21

Lady Betsy was sitting
in her window so high,
And she saw her father,
as he was riding by.

22

‘Oh father, oh father,
don't lay the blame on me;
'Twas the false nurse and Long Lankyn
that killed your ladye.’
[OMITTED]

23

Then Long Lankyn was hanged
on a gallows so high,
And the false nurse was burnt
in a fire just by.

330

Long Lonkin

LAMKIN—G

[_]

Richardson's Borderer's Table Book, VIII, 410, 1846, communicated by Mrs Blackett, Newcastle, as taken down from the recitation of an old woman of Ovington, Northumberland, “several years ago;” previously in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book, 1835, p. 11.

1

The lord said to his ladie,
as he mounted his horse,
Beware of Long Lonkin,
that lies in the moss.

2

The lord said to his ladie,
as he rode away,
Beware of Long Lonkin,
that lies in the clay.

3

‘What care I for Lonkin,
or any of his gang?
My doors are all shut,
and my windows penned in.’

4

There were six little windows,
and they were all shut,
But one little window,
and that was forgot.

5

[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
And at that little window
long Lonkin crept in.

6

‘Where's the lord of the hall?’
says the Lonkin:
‘He's gone up to London,’
says Orange to him.

7

‘Where's the men of the hall?’
says the Lonkin:
‘They're at the field ploughing,’
says Orange to him.

8

‘Where's the maids of the hall?’
says the Lonkin:
‘They're at the well washing,’
says Orange to him.

9

‘Where's the ladies of the hall?’
says the Lonkin:
‘They're up in their chambers,’
says Orange to him.

10

‘How shall we get them down?’
says the Lonkin:
‘Prick the babe in the cradle,’
says Orange to him.

11

‘Rock well my cradle,
and bee-ba my son;
You shall have a new gown
when the lord he comes home.’

12

Still she did prick it,
and bee-ba she cried:
‘Come down, dearest mistress,
and still your own child.’

13

‘Oh still my child, Orange,
still him with a bell:’
‘I can't still him, ladie,
till you come down yoursell.’
[OMITTED]

14

‘Hold the gold basin,
for your heart's blood to run in,’
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

15

‘To hold the gold basin,
it grieves me full sore;
Oh kill me, dear Lonkin,
and let my mother go.’

Buld Rankin

LAMKIN—H

[_]

Kinloch MSS, I, 306.

1

Bauld Rankin was as gude a mason
as eer biggit wi stane;
He has biggit a bonny castle,
but siller he gat nane.
[OMITTED]

2

‘Gae bar the gates,’ the lady said,
‘gae bar them out and in;
Leave not a door open,
lest Rankin should come in.’

3

They've bard them on the outer side,
sae hae they on the in;
But left the cellar-door open,
and Bauld Rankin crap in.

331

4

‘Where's a' the women o the house?’
says Bauld Rankin:
‘They're at the well washing,’
says the fause nurse to him.

5

‘Where's a' the men of this house?’
says the Bauld Rankin:
‘They are at the barn thrashing,’
says the fause nurse to him.

6

‘Where's the lady of this house?’
says the Bauld Rankin:
‘She's in the chamber, sleeping,’
says the fause nurse to him.

7

‘How will we get her wakent?
how will we get her down?’
‘We'll pierce the baby's heart's blood,’
says the fause nurse to him.
[OMITTED]

8

‘Come, please the babe, nurse,
come please it wi the keys:’
‘It'll no be pleased, madam,
tho I'll down on my knees.’

9

‘Come, please the babe, nurse,
come, please it wi the knife:’
‘It'll no be pleased, madam,
should I lay down my life.’

10

‘Come, please the babe, nurse,
come, please it wi the bell:’
‘It'll no be pleased, madam,
till ye come down yoursel.’

11

‘How can I come down, how can I come,
sae late in the night,
And neither coal nor candle,
for to shew me light?’

12

The first step she steppit,
she steppit on a stane;
The next step she steppit,
she met the Bauld Rankin.

13

‘O spare my life, Rankin,
O spare it most dear!
I'll gie you as monie guineas
as birds in the air.

14

‘O spare my life, Rankin,
O save it most sweet!
I'll gie you as monie guineas
as there's stanes in the street.’
[OMITTED]

15

‘I wish my wife and bairns
may be all well at hame;
For the buttons on my waistcoat
they winna bide on.

16

‘I wish my wife and family
may be all well at home;
For the rings upon my fingers
they winna bide on.’
[OMITTED]

17

He has kindled a big bane-fire,
in the middle o the closs,
And he has burned Bauld Rankin,
likewise the fause nurse.

LAMKIN—I

[_]

Skene MSS, p. 75, North of Scotland, 1802-03.

1

Lanckin was as guid a mason
as ever did use stane;
He biggit Lord Murray's house,
an payment neer got nane.

2

It fell ance on a day
Lord Murray went frae hame,
An Lankin came to the fause nourice,
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

3

‘O still my bairn, nourice,
still him wi the knife:’
‘He winna still, lady,
Tho I should lay down my life.’

4

‘O still my bairn, nurice,
still him wi the bell:’
‘He winna still, lady,
till ye come down yersel.’

332

5

The first [step she steppit],
she came on the marble stane;
The next step [she steppit],
she met him Lankin.

6

‘O spare my life, Lankin,
an I'll gie ye a peck o goud;
An that dinna please ye,
I'll heap it wi my hand.’

7

‘O will I kill the lady, nurice,
or will I lat her be?’
‘O kill her, Lankin,
she was never guid to me.’

8

‘O wanted ye yer meat, nurice?
or wanted ye yer fee?
Or wanted ye the othir bounties
ladys are wont to gie?’

9

[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
‘O kill her, Lankin,
she was never guid to me.’

10

‘Gae wash a bason, nurice,
an ye wash it clean,
To cape this ladie's blood;
she is come o high kine.’

11

‘I winna wash a bason,
nor will I wash it clean,
To cape this ladie's blood,
tho she's come o high kine.’
[OMITTED]

12

Bonny sang yon bird,
as he sat upon the tree,
But sare grat Lankin,
for he was hangit hie.

13

Bonny sang the bird,
that sat upon the hill,
But sare grat the nurice,
whan the caudron gan to boil.

14

[OMITTED]
Lankin was hangit hie,
And the fause nourice burnt
in the caudron was she.

Lammikin

LAMKIN—J

[_]

Kinloch MSS, V, 371, in the handwriting of Dr John Hill Burton.

1

O Lammikin was as good a mason
as ever bigget stane;
He's bigget Lord Erley's castle,
but money he got nane.

2

It fell out upon a time
Lord Earley went from home;
He left his lady in his castle,
but and his young son.
[OMITTED]

3

‘Where is the lord o this house,
that calls me Lammikin?’
‘He's on the sea sailing,
he will not come home.’

4

‘Where are the men o this house,
that call me Lammikin?’
‘They are at the barn threshing,
they will not come in.’

5

‘Where are the maids of this house,
that call me Lammikin?’
‘They are at the well washing,
they will not come in.’

6

‘Where is the lady o this house,
that calls me Lammikin?’
‘She's in her room shewing,
she will not come down.’

7

‘How shall we contrive
for to make her come down?’
‘We'll stick her dear infant,
and make her come down.’

8

O Lammikin he rocket,
and the fause nurice sung,
While out o the cradle
the infant's blude sprung.

9

‘O still my bairn, nurice,’
the lady did cry:
‘He will not still, lady,
for you nor for I.’

333

10

‘O still my bairn, nurice,
still him wi the wan:’
‘He will not still, lady,
for a' his father's lan.’

11

‘Oh still my bairn, nurice,
still him wi the keys:’
‘Oh he winna still, lady,
for a' his father's leys.’

12

‘Oh still my bairn, nurice,
still him wi the bell:’
‘Oh he winna still, lady,
till ye come down yersell.’

13

The firsten step that lady stepped,
it was upon a stone;
The nexten step that lady stepped,
she saw him Lammikin.

14

The nexten step that lady stepped
was in her own child's blood,
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

15

‘Oh will I kill her, nurice,
or will I let her be?’
‘Kill her, dear Lammikin,
she was never gude to me.’

16

‘Oh wanted you meat, nurice?
or wanted you fee?
Or wanted you anything
that a lady can gie?’

17

‘I wanted no meat, lady,
nor wanted I fee,
But I wanted mony a thing
that a lady could gie.’
[OMITTED]

Long Longkin

LAMKIN—K

[_]

Communicated to Percy by Rev. P. Parsons, of Wye, near Ashford, Kent, April 19, 1775.

1

My lord said to my lady,
when he went from home,
Take care of Long Longkin,
he lies in the lone.

2

My lady said to my lord,
when he went abroad,
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

3

‘I care not for Longkin,
nor none of his kin,
For my gate's fast barrd,
and my windows shut in.’

4

My lord was not gone
many miles from the place,
Untill the false Longkin
came straight to the place.
[OMITTED]

5

‘Pinch the bairn, nourry,
pinch it very sore,
Untill the mother
shall come down below.’

6

‘Still the bairn, nury,
still it with the pap:’
‘It wont be stilld, madam,
with neither this nor that.’

7

‘Still the bairn, nury,
still it with a bell:’
‘It wont be stilld, madam,
till you cum down yoursell.’
[OMITTED]

8

‘Come down, Lady Betty,
the flower of all your kin,
And see your mother's heart's blood,
so freely running.

9

Down came Lady Betty,
her heart full of woe:
‘Oh take my life, Longkin,
and let my mother go.’

334

10

‘Come down, Lady Nelly,
the flower of all your kin,
And see your sister's heart's blood,
so freely running.’

11

Down came Lady Nelly,
her heart full of woe:
‘Oh take my life, Longkin,
and let my sister go.’

12

‘Come down, Lady Jenny, etc.

Lamkin

LAMKIN—L

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 14, from Mr W. Steele, Greenock.

[OMITTED]

1

O where's the men of this house?’
quo the Lamkin:
‘They're in the barn threshing,’
quo the false nurse within.

2

‘O where's the women of the house?’
quo the Lamkin:
‘They're at the well washing,’
quo the false nurse within.

3

‘O where's the lord of this house?’
quo the Lamkin:
‘He's in the wood hunting,’
quo the false nurse within.

4

‘O where's the lady of the house?’
quo the Lamkin:
‘She's in her bower dressing,’
quo the false nurse within.
[OMITTED]

5

‘O please my babie, nourrice,
O please him with the keys:’
‘He'll no be pleased, madam,
let me do what I please.’

6

‘O please my babie, nourrice,
O please him with the bell:’
‘He'll no be pleased, madam,
till ye come down yoursell.’
[OMITTED]

7

There was blood in the chaumer,
and blood in the ha,
And blood in his ladie's room,
which he liked warst of a'.
[OMITTED]

Cruel Lammikin

LAMKIN—M

[_]

a. Dr Joseph Robertson's Note-Book, Adversaria, p. 60, from tradition. b. Kinloch MSS, VI, 31, in Dr Robertson's handwriting.

[OMITTED]

1

But it fell out upon a day
Lord Wearie was to gae frae hame,
And he has left his lady gay
In his castell to stay her lane.
[OMITTED]

2

Lamkin rocked,
and fausse nourice sang,
And a' the four tors o the cradle
red blood sprang.

3

‘O still my bairn, nourice,
O still him wi the wan:
‘He winna still, lady,
for a' his father's lan.’

4

‘O still my bairn, nourice,
O still him wi the keys:
‘He winna still, lady,
for a' his father's leys.’

5

‘O still my bairn, nourice,
O still him wi the pap:’
‘He winna still, lady,
for this nor for that.’

6

‘O still my bairn, nourice,
O still him wi the bell:’

335

‘He winna still, lady,
untill ye cum down yersell.’

7

The firsten step she steppet,
she stepped on a stane,
And the nexten step she stepped,
she keppit him fause Lamkin.

8

The thirden step she steppit,
she saw her young son's red blood run on,
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

9

‘Ye've killed my bairn, Lamkin,
but lat mysell be;
Ye'se be as weel payit a mason
as was ever payd a fee.’

Lamkin

LAMKIN—N

[_]

Dr Joseph Robertson's Journal of Excursions, 1828-29, No 2.

1

Lamkin was as gude a mason
as ever biggit stone;
He biggit Laird Earie's house,
and payment he got none.

2

O it fell ance upon a day
Laird Earie went from home,
And Lamkin came cravin
his lady alone.

3

‘O far's the laird o this place?
O neerice, tell me:’
‘He's on the sea sailin,
O Lamkin,’ said she.

4

‘O far's the lady o this place?
neerice, tell me:’
‘She's up the stair dressin,
O Lamkin,’ said she.

5

‘O far's the bairns o this place?
neerice, tell me:’ ‘The're at the scheel [OMITTED]
O Lamkin,’ said she.
‘O will I get a word o her,
neerice?’ said he.
[OMITTED]

6

The first step that lady steppet
she steppd on a stone;
The next step that lady stept
she met wi Lamkin.
[OMITTED]

7

Ere the basin was washen,
or haf made clean,
The ladie's heart-bleed
was rinnin in the reem.

Lammikin

LAMKIN—O

[_]

Kinloch MSS, V, 375, from Mrs Forbes, Milne's Court, Edinburgh, in the handwriting of Robert Chambers.

[OMITTED]

1

You have two bright diamonds,
as bright as the stars,
Put one on each finger,
they'll show you doun stairs.’

2

The first step this lady took,
she dreaded no harm;
But the second step this lady took,
she was in Lammikin's arms.

3

‘Will I kill her, nursie,
or will I let her be?’
‘Oh yes, kill her, Lammikin,
she was never gude to me.’

4

‘How can [ye] say so, nursie?
how can ye say so?
For your head neer did ache
but my heart it was sore.

5

‘Oh spare my life, nursie,
oh spare my life, spare;
Ye'll have as mony gowd guineas
as there's birds in the air.

336

6

‘Oh spare my life, nursie,
till my lord comes back;
Ye'll have as mony gowd guineas
as the fou of a sack.’

7

‘Oh yes kill her and [OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

8

‘Go scour the silver basin,
go scour it fine,
For our lady's heart's blude
is gentle to tine.

9

‘Go scour the silver skewer,
oh scour it richt fine,
For our lady's heart's blude
is gentle to tine.’

Lammikin

LAMKIN—P

[_]

Herd's MSS, I, 25.

1

A better mason than Lammikin
nevir builded wi the stane,
Wha builded Lord Weire's castill,
but wages nevir gat nane.
[OMITTED]

2

They stecked doors, they stecked yates,
close to the cheik and the chin;
They stecked them a' but a little wickit,
and Lammikin crap in.

3

‘Now where's the lady of this castle?
nurse, tell to Lammikin:’
‘She's sewing up intill her bowir,’
the fals nourrice she sung.

4

‘What sall we do, what sall we say,
to gar her cum there down?’
‘We'll nip the baby in the cradle,
the fals nourrice she sung.

5

Lammikin nipped the bonie babe,
while loud fals nourice sings;
Lammikin nipped the bony babe,
while hich the red blude springs.

6

‘O gentil nourice, please my babe,
O please him wi the keys:’
‘He'll no be pleased, gay lady,
gin I'd sit on my knees.’

7

‘Gude gentil nourice, please my babe,
O please him wi a knife:’
‘He winna be pleased, mistress myne,
gin I wad lay down my lyfe.’

8

‘Sweet nourice, loud, loud cries my babe,
O please him wi the bell:’
‘He winna be pleased, gay lady,
till ye cum down yoursell.’

Lammikin

LAMKIN—Q

[_]

Finlay's Scottish Ballads, II, 45.

1

Lammikin was as gude a mason
as ever hewed a stane;
He biggit Lord Weire's castle,
but payment gat he nane.
[OMITTED]

2

‘Where are the lads o this castle?’
says the Lammikin:
‘They are a' wi Lord Weire, hunting,’
the false nourice did sing.

3

‘Where are the lasses o this castle?’
says the Lammikin:
‘They are a' out at the washing,’
the false nourice did sing.

4

‘But where's the lady o this house?’
says the Lammikin:
‘She is in her bower sewing,’
the false nourice did sing.

5

‘Is this the bairn o this house?’
says the Lammikin:
‘The only bairn Lord Weire aughts,’
the false nourice did sing.
[OMITTED]

337

6

‘Still my bairn, nourice,
O still him if ye can:’
‘He will not still, madam,
for a' his father's lan.’

7

‘O gentle nourice, still my bairn,
O still him wi the keys:’
‘He will not still, fair lady,
let me do what I please.’

8

‘O still my bairn, kind nourice,
O still him wi the ring:’
‘He will not still, my lady,
let me do any thing.’
[OMITTED]

9

The first step she stepped,
she stepped on a stane;
The next step she stepped,
she met the Lammikin.
[OMITTED]

10

‘O nourice, wanted ye your meat?
or wanted ye your fee?
Or wanted ye for any thing
a fair lady could gie?’

11

‘I wanted for nae meat, ladie,
I wanted for nae fee;
But I wanted for a hantle
a fair lady could gie.’
[OMITTED]

12

‘I wish a' may be weel,’ he says,
‘wi my ladie at hame;
For the rings upon my fingers
are bursting in twain.’
[OMITTED]

13

‘There's bluid in my nursery,
there's bluid in my ha,
There's bluid in my fair lady's bower,
an that's warst of a'.’

14

O sweet, sweet sang the birdie,
upon the bough sae hie,
But little cared false nourice for that,
for it was her gallows-tree.
[OMITTED]

Lammikin

LAMKIN—R

[_]

Finlay's Scottish Ballads, II, 55, “from a manuscript formerly written by an old lady.”

1

When Sir Guy and his train
gaed to hunt the wild boar,
He gard bar up his castle,
behind and before.

2

And he bade his fair lady
guard weel her young son,
For wicked Balcanqual
great mischief had done.

3

So she closed a' the windows,
without and within,
But forgot the wee wicket,
and Balcanqual crap in.
[OMITTED]

4

Syne Balcanqual he rocked,
and fause nourice sang,
Till through a' the cradle
the baby's blood sprang.

5

‘O please the bairn, nourice,
and please him wi the keys:’
‘He'll no be pleased, madam,
for a' that he sees.’

6

And Balcanqual ay rocked,
while fause nourice sang,
And through a' the cradle
the baby's blood ran.

7

‘Please the bairn, nourice,
and please him wi the knife:’
‘He'll no be pleased, madam,
tho I'd gie my life.’

8

And Balcanqual still rocked,
and fause nourice sang,
While through a' the cradle
the baby's blood ran.

338

9

‘Now please the bairn, nourice,
and please him wi the bell:’
‘He'll no be pleased, madam,
till ye come yoursell.’

10

Down came this fair lady,
tripping down the stair,
To see her sick bairn,
but returned never mair.

11

‘Now scour the bason, Jenny,
and scour't very clean,
To haad this lady's blood,
for she's of noble kin.’
[OMITTED]

Lambkin

LAMKIN—S

[_]

Motherwell's Note-Book, fol. 13.

1

Lambkin was as brave a builder
as eer built a stane,
And he built Lord Cassillis house,
an for payment he gat nane.

2

My lord said to my lady,
when he went abroad,
Tak care of fause Lamkin,
for he sleeps in the wood.

LAMKIN—T

[_]

Recited to me by Ellen Healy, January 14, 1881, as sung by Moll Lochnie, a woman of about seventy, at a place near Killarney, before 1867.

1

Where is the lord?
or is he within?’
‘He's gone to New England,
to dine with the king.’

2

‘Where is his horses?
or where is his men?’
‘They're gone to New England,
to wait upon him.’

3

‘Where is his lady?
or is she within?’
‘She's in her bedchamber,
all in her lying in.’

4

‘Can I get at her,
with thousands of lands?
Can I get at her,
to make her understand?’

5

‘You cannot get at her,
with thousands of lands;
You cannot get at her,
to make her understand.’

6

‘Lady, come down,
and please your child,’
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

7

‘Can't you please my child
with white bread and breast-wine?’
‘O lady, come down,
and please him awhile.’

8

‘How can I go down,
this cold winter's night,
Without a fire in the kitchen,
or candle to light?’

9

‘You've got nine bright lamps,
just as bright as the king;
Lady, come down,
and light one of them.’

10

[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
False Lantin he took her
so brave in his arms.

11

Saying, Where is your friend,
or where is your foe,
That will hold the gold basin,
your heart's blood to flow?

12

‘My nurse is not my friend,
my nurse is my foe;
She'll hold the gold basin,
my heart's blood to flow.

339

13

‘O spare my life
for one summer's day,
And I'll give you as much money
as there's sand in the sea.’

14

‘I'll not spare your life
for one summer's day,
And I wont have as much money
as there's sand in the sea.’

15

‘O spare me my life
until one o'clock,
And I'll give you Queen Betsie,
the flower of the flock.’

16

‘O mama, dear mama,
then please him awhile;
My dada is coming,
he's dressed in great style.’

17

False Lantin he heard
the words from the high,
Saying, Your mama is dead,
and away I will fly.

18

‘O dada, dear dada,
do not blame me,
'Tis nurse and false Lantin
betrayed your ladie.’

19

‘I'll bury my mama
against the wall,
And I'll bury my baba,
white all, white all.’

Lamkin

LAMKIN—U

[_]

a. The Ballad Book, by William Allingham, p. xxxiii, part of a version sung by a nurse in the family of a relative in Ireland. b. The same, p. 297, No 56, a compounded version.

1

As my lord and my lady
were out walking one day,
Says my lord to my lady,
Beware of Lamkin.

2

‘O why should I fear him,
or any such man,
When my doors are well barrd,
and my windows well pinnd?’
[OMITTED]

3

‘O keep your gold and silver,
it will do you some good;
It will buy you a coffin,
when you are dead.’

4

There's blood in the kitchen,
and blood in the hall,
And the young Mayor of England
lies dead by the wall.

LAMKIN—V

[_]

Harris MS., No 28, fol. 27 b, Miss Seymour, Lethnot.

I wald be very sorry
to wash a basin clean,
To haud my mither's heart's blude,
that's comin, an I ken.

Bloody Lambkin

LAMKIN—W

[_]

communicated by Mr Macmath as derived from his aunt, Miss Jane Webster, who learned it from her aunt, Minnie Spark, Kirkcudbrightshire.

[OMITTED]

1

And it was weel built,
without and within,
Except a little hole,
to let Bloody Lambkin come in.
[OMITTED]

2

He stabbed her young son,
wi the silver bodkin,
Till oot o the cradle
the reed blude did rin.

3

‘Oh still my babe, nourrice,
still him wi the keys:’
‘He'll no be still, madam,
let me do what I please.’

4

‘Oh still my babe, nourrice,
still him wi the knife:’
‘He'll no be still, madam,
na, no for my life.’

5

‘Oh still my babe, still my babe,
still him wi the bell:’
‘He'll no be still, madam,
till ye come down yoursel.’

6

‘How can I come down,
this cold frosty night?
I have neither coal nor candle,
for to show me light!’

7

‘O haud your tongue, nourrice,
sae loud as ye lee;
Ye'd neer a cut finger
but I pitied thee.’

340

LAMKIN—X

[_]

“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 133, Abbotsford; in the handwriting of James Hogg.

1

Lamkin was as good a mason
As ever liftit stane;
He built to the laird o Lariston,
But payment gat he nane.

2

Oft he came, an ay he came,
To that good lord's yett,
But neither at dor nor window
Ony entrance could get.

3

Till ae wae an weary day
Early he came,
An it fell out on that day
That good lord was frae hame.

4

He bade steek dor an window,
An prick them to the gin,
Nor leave a little wee hole,
Else Lamkin wad be in.

5

Noorice steekit dor an window,
She steekit them to the gin;
But she left a little wee hole
That Lamkin might win in.

6

‘O where's the lady o this house?’
Said cruel Lamkin;
‘She's up the stair sleepin,’
Said fause noorice then.

7

‘How will we get her down the stair?’
Said cruel Lamkin;
‘We'l stogg the baby i the cradle,’
Said fause noorice then.

8

He stoggit, and she rockit,
Till a' the floor swam,
An a' the tors o the cradle
Red wi blude ran.

9

‘O still my son, noorise,
O still him wi the kane;’
‘He winna still, madam,
Till Lariston come hame.’

10

‘O still my son, noorice,
O still him wi the knife;’
‘I canna still him, madam,
If ye sude tak my life.’

11

‘O still my soon, noorice,
O still him wi the bell;’
‘He winna still, madam,
Come see him yoursel.’

12

Wae an weary rase she up,
Slowly pat her on
Her green claethin o the silk,
An slowly came she down.

13

The first step she steppit,
It was on a stone;
The first body she saw
Was cruel Lamkin.

14

‘O pity, pity, Lamkin,
Hae pity on me!’
‘Just as meikle pity, madam,
As ye paid me o my fee.’

15

‘I'll g' ye a peck o good red goud,
Streekit wi the wand;
An if that winna please ye,
I'll heap it wi my hand.

16

‘An if that winna please ye,
O goud an o fee,
I'll g' ye my eldest daughter,
Your wedded wife to be.’

17

‘Gae wash the bason, lady,
Gae wash't an mak it clean,
To kep your mother's heart's-blude,
For she's of noble kin.’

18

‘To kep my mother's heart's-blude
I wad be right wae;
O tak mysel, Lamkin,
An let my mother gae.’

19

‘Gae wash the bason, noorice,
Gae wash't an mak it clean,
To kep your lady's heart's-blude,
For she's o noble kin.’

20

‘To wash the bason, Lamkin,
I will be right glad,
For mony, mony bursen day
About her house I've had.’

21

But oh, what dule an sorrow
Was about that lord's ha,
When he fand his lady lyin
As white as driven snaw!

22

O what dule an sorrow
Whan that good lord cam in,
An fand his young son murderd,
I the chimley lyin!

341

Lammikin

LAMKIN—Y

[_]

Findlay's MSS, I, 173, “from J. Milne, who wrote it down from recitation by John Duncan.”

1

Lie in your room, my wife,
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

2

‘You'll fasten doors and windows,
you'll fasten them out an in,
For if you leave ae window open
Lammikin will come in.’

3

They've fastened doors an windows,
they've fastened them out an in,
But they have left ae window open,
an Lammikin cam in.

4

‘O where are a' the women
that dwell here within?’
‘They're at the well washin,
and they will not come in.’

5

‘O where are a' the men
that dwell here within?’ ‘They're at the [OMITTED],
and they will not come in.’

6

‘O where is the lady
that dwells here within?’
‘She's up the stair dressin,
an she will not come doun.’

7

‘It's what will we do
to mak her come doun?
We'll rock the cradle, nourrice,
an mak her come doun.’

8

They [hae] rocked the cradle
to mak her come doun,
[OMITTED]
the red bluid out sprung.

9

‘O still the bairn, nourrice,
O still him wi the bell:’
‘He winna still, my lady,
till ye come doun yersel.’

10

The first step she steppit,
it was upon a stane;
The next step she steppit,
she keppit Lammikin.

11

‘O mercy, mercy, Lammikin,
hae mercy upo me!
Tho ye hae killed my young son,
ye may lat mysel abee.’

12

‘O it's will I kill her, nourrice,
or will I lat her be?’
‘O kill her, kill her, Lammikin,
she neer was gude to me.’

13

‘O it's wanted ye your meat?
or wanted ye your fee?’
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

14

‘I wanted not my meat,
I wanted not my fee,
But I wanted some bounties
that ladies can gie.’

342

94
YOUNG WATERS

YOUNG WATERS

[_]

Percy's Reliques, 1765, II, 172.


343

1

About Yule, when the wind blew cule,
And the round tables began,
A there is cum to our king's court
Mony a well-favourd man.

2

The queen luikt owre the castle-wa,
Beheld baith dale and down,
And then she saw Young Waters
Cum riding to the town.

3

His footmen they did rin before,
His horsemen rade behind;
Ane mantel of the burning gowd
Did keip him frae the wind.

4

Gowden-graithd his horse before,
And siller-shod behind;
The horse Young Waters rade upon
Was fleeter than the wind.

5

Out then spake a wylie lord,
Unto the queen said he,
‘O tell me wha's the fairest face
Rides in the company?’

6

‘I've sene lord, and I've sene laird,
And knights of high degree,
But a fairer face than Young Waters
Mine eyne did never see.’

7

Out then spack the jealous king,
And an angry man was he:
‘O if he had been twice as fair,
You micht have excepted me.’

8

‘You're neither laird nor lord,’ she says,
‘Bot the king that wears the crown;
There is not a knight in fair Scotland
But to thee maun bow down.’

9

For a' that she could do or say,
Appeasd he wad nae bee,
Bot for the words which she had said,
Young Waters he maun dee.

10

They hae taen Young Waters,
And put fetters to his feet;
They hae taen Young Waters,
And thrown him in dungeon deep.

11

‘Aft I have ridden thro Stirling town
In the wind bot and the weit;
Bot I neir rade thro Stirling town
Wi fetters at my feet.

12

‘Aft have I ridden thro Stirling town
In the wind bot and the rain;
Bot I neir rade thro Stirling town
Neir to return again.’

13

They hae taen to the heiding-hill
His young son in his craddle,
And they hae taen to the heiding-hill
His horse bot and his saddle.

14

They hae taen to the heiding-hill
His lady fair to see,
And for the words the queen had spoke
Young Waters he did dee.

346

95
THE MAID FREED FROM THE GALLOWS


350

THE MAID FREED FROM THE GALLOWS—A

[_]

Communicated to Percy, April 7, 1770, by the Rev. P. Parsons, of Wey, from oral tradition.

[OMITTED]

1

O good Lord Judge, and sweet Lord Judge,
Peace for a little while!
Methinks I see my own father,
Come riding by the stile.

2

‘Oh father, oh father, a little of your gold,
And likewise of your fee!
To keep my body from yonder grave,
And my neck from the gallows-tree.’

3

‘None of my gold now you shall have,
Nor likewise of my fee;
For I am come to see you hangd,
And hanged you shall be.’

4

‘Oh good Lord Judge, and sweet Lord Judge,
Peace for a little while!
Methinks I see my own mother,
Come riding by the stile.

5

‘Oh mother, oh mother, a little of your gold,
And likewise of your fee,
To keep my body from yonder grave,
And my neck from the gallows-tree!’

6

‘None of my gold now shall you have,
Nor likewise of my fee;
For I am come to see you hangd,
And hanged you shall be.’

7

‘Oh good Lord Judge, and sweet Lord Judge,
Peace for a little while!
Methinks I see my own brother,
Come riding by the stile.

8

‘Oh brother, oh brother, a little of your gold,
And likewise of your fee,
To keep my body from yonder grave,
And my neck from the gallows-tree!’

9

‘None of my gold now shall you have,
Nor likewise of my fee;
For I am come to see you hangd,
And hanged you shall be.’

10

‘Oh good Lord Judge, and sweet Lord Judge,
Peace for a little while!
Methinks I see my own sister,
Come riding by the stile.

11

‘Oh sister, oh sister, a little of your gold,
And likewise of your fee,
To keep my body from yonder grave,
And my neck from the gallows-tree!’

12

‘None of my gold now shall you have,
Nor likewise of my fee;
For I am come to see you hangd,
And hanged you shall be.’

13

‘Oh good Lord Judge, and sweet Lord Judge,
Peace for a little while!
Methinks I see my own true-love,
Come riding by the stile.

14

‘Oh true-love, oh true-love, a little of your gold,
And likewise of your fee,

351

To save my body from yonder grave,
And my neck from the gallows-tree.’

15

‘Some of my gold now you shall have,
And likewise of my fee,
For I am come to see you saved,
And saved you shall be.’

The Broom o the Cathery Knowes

THE MAID FREED FROM THE GALLOWS—B

[_]

Motherwell MS., p. 290, from the recitation of Widow McCormick; learned in Dumbarton.

[OMITTED]

1

It's hold your hand, dear judge,’ she says,
‘O hold your hand for a while!
For yonder I see my father a coming,
Riding many's the mile.

2

‘Have you any gold, father?’ she says,
‘Or have you any fee?
Or did you come to see your own daughter a hanging,
Like a dog, upon a tree?’

3

‘I have no gold, daughter,’ he says,
‘Neither have I any fee;
But I am come to see my ain daughter hanged,
And hanged she shall be.’

4

‘Hey the broom, and the bonny, bonny broom,
The broom o the Cauthery Knowes!
I wish I were at hame again,
Milking my ain daddie's ewes.

5

‘Hold your hand, dear judge,’ she says,
‘O hold your hand for a while!
For yonder I see my own mother coming,
Riding full many a mile.

6

‘Have you any gold, mother?’ she says,
‘Or have you any fee?
Or did you come to see your own daughter hanged,
Like a dog, upon a tree?’

7

‘I have no gold, daughter,’ she says,
‘Neither have I any fee;
But I am come to see my own daughter hanged,
And hanged she shall be.’

8

‘Hey the broom, the bonnie, bonnie broom,
The broom o the Cauthery Knowes!
I wish I were at hame again,
Milking my ain daddie's ewes.

9

‘Hold your hand, dear judge,’ she says,
‘O hold your hand for a while!
For yonder I see my ae brother a coming,
Riding many's the mile.

10

‘Have you any gold, brother?’ she says,
‘Or have you any fee?
Or did you come to see your ain sister a hanging,
Like a dog, upon a tree?’

11

‘I have no gold, sister,’ he says,
‘Nor have I any fee;
But I am come to see my ain sister hanged,
And hanged she shall be.’

12

‘Hey the broom, the bonnie, bonnie broom,
The broom o the Cathery Knowes!
I wish I were at hame again,
Milking my ain daddie's ewes.

13

‘Hold your hand, dear judge,’ she says,
‘O hold your hand for a while!
For yonder I see my own true-love coming,
Riding full many a mile.

14

‘Have you any gold, my true-love?’ she says,
‘Or have you any fee?
Or have you come to see your own love hanged,
Like a dog, upon a tree?’
[OMITTED]

352

THE MAID FREED FROM THE GALLOWS—C

[_]

Notes and Queries, Sixth Series, VII, 275, 1883: communicated by the Rev. E. Venables, Precentor of Lincoln, as sung by a nurse-maid from Woburn, near High Wycombe, Buckinghamshire, “between fifty and sixty years ago.”

1

Hold up thy hand, most righteous judge,
Hold up thy hand a while!
For here I see my own dear father,
Come tumbling over the stile.

2

‘Oh hast thou brought me silver or gold,
Or jewels, to set me free?
Or hast thou come to see me hung?
For hanged I shall be.
[OMITTED]

3

‘If I could get out of this prickly bush,
That prickles my heart so sore,
If I could get out of this prickly bush,
I'd never get in it no more.’

4

‘Oh I have brought nor silver nor gold,
Nor jewels, to set thee free;
But I have come to see thee hung,
For hanged thou shall be.
[OMITTED]

5

It's I have brought thee silver and gold,
And jewels, to set thee free;
I have not come to see thee hung,
For hanged thou shall not be.’

6

‘Now I have got out of this prickly bush,
That prickled my heart so sore,
And I have got out of this prickly bush,
I'll never get in it no more.’

THE MAID FREED FROM THE GALLOWS—D

[_]

Skene MSS, p. 61, stanzas 19-24: taken down in the north or northeast of Scotland, 1802-03.

1

[OMITTED]
‘O had your hand a while!
For yonder comes my father,
I'm sure he'l borrow me.

2

‘O some of your goud, father,
An of your well won fee!
To save me [frae the high hill],
[And] frae the gallow-tree.’

3

‘Ye's get nane of my goud,
Nor of my well won fee,
For I would gie five hundred poun
To see ye hangit hie.’

4

[OMITTED]
‘O had yer hand a while!
Yonder is my love Willie,
Sure he will borrow me.

5

‘O some o your goud, my love Willie,
An some o yer well won fee!
To save me frae the high hill,
And frae the gallow-tree.’

6

‘Ye's get a' my goud,
And a' my well won fee,
To save ye fra the headin-hill,
And frae the gallow-tree.’

Lady Maisry; or, Warenston and the Duke of York's Daughter

THE MAID FREED FROM THE GALLOWS—E

[_]

Buchan's MSS, II, 186, stanzas 16-22.

1

Hold your hands, ye justice o peace,
Hold them a little while!
For yonder comes my father and mother,
That's travelld mony a mile.

2

‘Gie me some o your gowd, parents,
Some o your white monie,
To save me frae the head o yon hill,
Yon greenwood gallows-tree.’

3

‘Ye'll get nane o our gowd, daughter,
Nor nane o our white monie,
For we have travelld mony a mile,
This day to see you die.’

4

‘Hold your hands, ye justice o peace,
Hold them a little while!
For yonder comes him Warenston,
The father of my chile.

5

‘Give me some o your gowd, Warenston,
Some o your white monie,

353

To save me frae the head o yon hill,
Yon greenwood gallows-tree.’

6

‘I bade you nurse my bairn well,
And nurse it carefullie,
And gowd shoud been your hire, Maisry,
And my body your fee.’

7

He's taen out a purse o gowd,
Another o white monie,
And he's tauld down ten thousand crowns,
Says, True-love, gang wi me.

THE MAID FREED FROM THE GALLOWS—F

[_]

Notes and Queries, Sixth Series, VI, 476, 1882: “sung in Forfarshire, forty years ago.”

1

Stop, stop, [OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
I think I see my father coming,
[OMITTED]

2

‘O hae ye brocht my silken cloak,
Or my golden key?
Or hae ye come to see me hanged,
On this green gallows-tree?’

3

‘I've neither brocht your silken cloak,
Nor your golden key,
But I have come to see you hanged,
On this green gallows-tree.’
[OMITTED]

4

‘I've neither brocht your silken cloak,
Nor your golden key,
But I am come to set you free
From this green gallows-tree.’

The Golden Key

THE MAID FREED FROM THE GALLOWS—G

[_]

a. Notes and Queries, Sixth Series, VI, 415, 1882. b. The same, p. 269.

1

Hangman, hangman, stop a minute,
[OMITTED]
I think I see my father coming,
[OMITTED]

2

‘Father, father, have you found the key,
And have you come to set me free?
Or have you come to see me hanged,
Upon this gallows-tree?’

3

‘I have not come to see you hanged,
Upon the gallows-tree,
For I have found the golden key,’
[OMITTED]

The Golden Ball

THE MAID FREED FROM THE GALLOWS—H

[_]

a. Baring-Gould's Appendix to Henderson's Notes on the Folk Lore of the Northern Counties of England and the Borders, 1866, p. 333, Yorkshire. b. Notes and Queries, Sixth Series, X, 354, 1884.

1

Stop, stop! [OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
I think I see my mother coming,
[OMITTED]

2

‘Oh mother, hast brought my golden ball,
And come to set me free?
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

3

‘I've neither brought thy golden ball,
Nor come to set thee free,
But I have come to see thee hung,
Upon this gallows-tree.’

4

‘Stop, stop! [OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
I think I see my father coming,
[OMITTED]

5

‘O father, hast brought my golden ball,
And come to set me free?
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

354

6

‘I've neither brought thy golden ball,
Nor come to set thee free,
But I have come to see thee hung,
Upon this gallows-tree.’

7

‘Stop, stop! [OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
I see my sweet-heart coming,
[OMITTED]

8

‘Sweet-heart, hast brought my golden ball,
And come to set me free?
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

9

‘Aye, I have brought thy golden ball,
And come to set thee free;
I have not come to see thee hung,
Upon this gallows-tree.’

THE MAID FREED FROM THE GALLOWS—I

[_]

“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 127, Abbotsford. Sent to John Leyden, by whom and when does not appear.

1

‘Hold your tongue, Lord Judge,’ she says,
‘Yet hold it a little while;
Methinks I see my ain dear father
Coming wandering many a mile.

2

‘O have you brought me gold, father?
Or have you brought me fee?
Or are you come to save my life
From off this gallows-tree?’

3

‘I have not brought you gold, daughter,
Nor have I brought you fee,
But I am come to see you hangd,
As you this day shall be.’
[_]

[“The verses run thus untill she has seen her mother, her brother, and her sister likewise arrive, and then

Methinks I see my ain dear lover

, etc.”]

4

‘I have not brought you gold, true-love,
Nor yet have I brought fee,
But I am come to save thy life
From off this gallows-tree.’

5

‘Gae hame, gae hame, father,’ she says,
‘Gae hame and saw yer seed;
And I wish not a pickle of it may grow up,
But the thistle and the weed.

6

‘Gae hame, gae hame, gae hame, mother,
Gae hame and brew yer yill;
And I wish the girds may a' loup off,
And the Deil spill a' yer yill.

7

‘Gae hame, gae hame, gae hame, brother,
Gae hame and lie with yer wife;
And I wish that the first news I may hear
That she has tane your life.

8

‘Gae hame, gae hame, sister,’ she says,
‘Gae hame and sew yer seam;
I wish that the needle-point may break,
And the craws pyke out yer een.’

THE MAID FREED FROM THE GALLOWS—J

[_]

Communicated by Dr George Birkbeck Hill, May 10, 1890, as learned forty years before from a schoolfellow, who came from the north of Somersetshire and sang it in the dialect of that region. Given from memory.

1

‘Hold up, hold up your hands so high!
Hold up your hands so high!
For I think I see my own father
Coming over yonder stile to me.

2

‘Oh father, have you got any gold for me?
Any money for to pay me free?
To keep my body from the cold clay ground,
And my neck from the gallows-tree?’

3

‘Oh no, I've got no gold for thee,
No money for to pay thee free,
For I've come to see thee hangd this day,
And hangëd thou shalt be.’

4

‘Oh the briers, prickly briers,
Come prick my heart so sore;
If ever I get from the gallows-tree,
I'll never get there any more.’
[_]

[“The same verses are repeated, with mother, brother, and sister substituted for father. At last the sweet-heart comes. The two first verses are the same, and the third and fourth as follows.”]

5

‘Oh yes, I've got some gold for thee,
Some money for to pay thee free;
I'll save thy body from the cold clay ground,
And thy neck from the gallows-tree.’

6

‘Oh the briers, prickly briers,
Don't prick my heart any more;
For now I've got from the gallows-tree
I'll never get there any more.’


The Prickly Bush

THE MAID FREED FROM THE GALLOWS—K

[_]

Mr Heywood Sumner, in English County Songs, by Lucy E. Broadwood and J. A. Fuller Maitland, p. 112. From Somersetshire.

1

‘O hangman, hold thy hand,’ he cried,
‘O hold thy hand awhile,
For I can see my own dear father
Coming over yonder stile.

2

‘O father, have you brought me gold?
Or will you set me free?
Or be you come to see me hung,
All on this high gallows-tree?’

3

‘No, I have not brought thee gold,
And I will not set thee free,
But I am come to see thee hung,
All on this high gallows-tree.’

4

‘Oh, the prickly bush, the prickly bush,
It pricked my heart full sore;
If ever I get out of the prickly bush,
I'll never get in any more.’
[_]

The above is repeated three times more, with the successive substitution of ‘mother,’ ‘brother,’ ‘sister,’ for ‘father.’ Then the first two stanzas are repeated, with ‘sweetheart’ for ‘father,’ and instead of 3 is sung:

5

‘Yes, I have brought thee gold,’ she cried,
‘And I will set thee free,
And I am come, but not to see thee hung
All on this high gallous-tree.’
‘Oh, the prickly bush,’ etc.

355

96
THE GAY GOSHAWK


357

The Gay Goss Hawk

THE GAY GOSHAWK—A

[_]

Jamieson-Brown MS., No 6, pt 15.

1

O well's me o my gay goss-hawk,
That he can speak and flee;
He'll carry a letter to my love,
Bring back another to me.’

2

‘O how can I your true-love ken,
Or how can I her know?
Whan frae her mouth I never heard couth,
Nor wi my eyes her saw.’

3

‘O well sal ye my true-love ken,
As soon as you her see;
For, of a' the flowrs in fair Englan,
The fairest flowr is she.

4

‘At even at my love's bowr-door
There grows a bowing birk,
An sit ye down and sing thereon,
As she gangs to the kirk.

5

‘An four-and-twenty ladies fair
Will wash and go to kirk,
But well shall ye my true-love ken,
For she wears goud on her skirt.

6

‘An four and twenty gay ladies
Will to the mass repair,
But well sal ye my true-love ken,
For she wears goud on her hair.’

7

O even at that lady's bowr-door
There grows a bowin birk,
An she set down and sang thereon,
As she ged to the kirk.

8

‘O eet and drink, my marys a',
The wine flows you among,
Till I gang to my shot-window,
An hear yon bonny bird's song.

9

‘Sing on, sing on, my bonny bird,
The song ye sang the streen,
For I ken by your sweet singin
You're frae my true-love sen.’

358

10

O first he sang a merry song,
An then he sang a grave,
An then he peckd his feathers gray,
To her the letter gave.

11

‘Ha, there's a letter frae your love,
He says he sent you three;
He canna wait your love langer,
But for your sake he'll die.

12

‘He bids you write a letter to him;
He says he's sent you five;
He canno wait your love langer,
Tho you're the fairest woman alive.’

13

‘Ye bid him bake his bridal-bread,
And brew his bridal-ale,
An I'll meet him in fair Scotlan
Lang, lang or it be stale.’

14

She's doen her to her father dear,
Fa'n low down on her knee:
‘A boon, a boon, my father dear,
I pray you, grant it me.’

15

‘Ask ou, ask on, my daughter,
An granted it sal be;
Except ae squire in fair Scotlan,
An him you sall never see.’

16

‘The only boon, my father dear,
That I do crave of the,
Is, gin I die in southin lands,
In Scotland to bury me.

17

‘An the firstin kirk that ye come till,
Ye gar the bells be rung,
An the nextin kirk that ye come till,
Ye gar the mess be sung.

18

‘An the thirdin kirk that ye come till,
You deal gold for my sake,
An the fourthin kirk that ye come till,
You tarry there till night.’

19

She is doen her to her bigly bowr,
As fast as she coud fare,
An she has tane a sleepy draught,
That she had mixed wi care.

20

She's laid her down upon her bed,
An soon she's fa'n asleep,
And soon oer every tender limb
Cauld death began to creep.

21

Whan night was flown, an day was come,
Nae ane that did her see
But thought she was as surely dead
As ony lady coud be.

22

Her father an her brothers dear
Gard make to her a bier;
The tae half was o guide red gold,
The tither o silver clear.

23

Her mither an her sisters fair
Gard work for her a sark;
The tae half was o cambrick fine,
The tither o needle wark.

24

The firstin kirk that they came till,
They gard the bells be rung,
An the nextin kirk that they came till,
They gard the mess be sung.

25

The thirdin kirk that they came till,
They dealt gold for her sake,
An the fourthin kirk that they came till,
Lo, there they met her make!

26

‘Lay down, lay down the bigly bier,
Lat me the dead look on;’
Wi cherry cheeks and ruby lips
She lay an smil'd on him.

27

‘O ae sheave o your bread, true-love,
An ae glass o your wine,
For I hae fasted for your sake
These fully days is nine.

28

‘Gang hame, gang hame, my seven bold brothers,
Gang hame and sound your horn;
An ye may boast in southin lans
Your sister's playd you scorn.’

359

THE GAY GOSHAWK—B

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 230: from the recitation of Mrs Bell, of Paisley, and of Miss Montgomerie, of Edinburgh, her sister.

1

Out then spoke the king of Scotland,
And he spak wondrous clear:
Where will I get a boy, and a pretty little boy,
That will my tidings bear?

2

Out then spak a pretty little bird,
As it sat on a brier:
What will ye gie me, king of Scotland, he said,
If I your tidings will bear?

3

‘One wing of the beaten gowd,
And another of the silver clear;
It's all unto thee, my pretty little bird,
If thou my tidings will bear.’

4

The bird flew high, the bird flew low,
This bird flew to and fro,
Until that he came to the king of England's dochter,
Who was sitting in her bower-window.

5

‘Here is a gift, a very rare gift,
And the king has sent you three;
He says if your father and mother winna let,
You may come privately.

6

‘Here is a gift, and a very rare gift,
The king has sent you five;
He says he will not wait any longer on you,
If there be another woman alive.’

7

She's away to her mother dear,
Made a low beck on her knee:
‘What is your asking of me, daughter?
Queen of Scotland you never shall be.’

8

‘That's not my asking of thee, mother,
That's not my asking of thee;
But that if I die in merry England,
In Scotland you will bury me.’

9

She's awa to her father dear,
Made a low beck on her knee:
‘What is your asking of me, daughter?
Queen of Scotland you never shall be.’

10

‘That's not my asking of thee, father,
That's not my asking of thee;
But that if I die in merry England,
In Scotland you will bury me.’

11

She walked to and fro,
She walked up and down,
But ye wud na spoken three words to an end
Till she was in a deep swoon.

12

Out then spoke an auld witch-wife,
And she spoke random indeed:
Honoured madam, I would have you to try
Three drops of the burning lead.

13

Her mother went weeping round and round,
She dropped one on her chin;
‘Och and alace,’ her mother did say,
‘There is no breath within!’

14

Her mother went weeping round and round,
She dropt one on her briest;
‘Och and alace,’ her mother did cry,
‘For she's died without a priest!’

15

Her mother went weeping round and round,
She dropped one on her toe;
‘Och and alace,’ her mother did cry,
‘To Scotland she must goe!

16

‘Call down, call down her sisters five,
To make to her a smock;
The one side of the bonny beaten gold,
And the other of the needle-work.

17

‘Call down, call down her brothers seven,
To make for her a bier;
The one side of the bonny beaten gold,
And the other of the silver clear.’

18

Many a mile by land they went,
And many a league by sea,
Until that they came to the king of Scotland,
Who was walking in his own valley.

19

‘Here is a gift, and a very rare gift,
And you to have made her your own;
But now she is dead, and she's new come from her steed,
And she's ready to lay in the ground.’

20

O he has opened the lid of the coffin,
And likewise the winding sheet,

360

And thrice he has kissed her cherry, cherry cheek,
And she smiled on him full sweet.

21

‘One bit of your bread,’ she says,
‘And one glass of your wine;
It's all for you and your sake
I've fasted long days nine.

22

‘One glass of your wine,’ she says,
‘And one bit of your bread;
For it's all for you and for your sake
I suffered the burning lead.

23

‘Go home, go home, my brothers seven,
You may go blow your horn;
And you may tell it in merry England
That your sister has given you the scorn.

24

‘Go home, go home, my brothers seven,
Tell my sisters to sew their seam;
And you may tell it in merry England
That your sister she is queen.’

The Jolly Goshawk

THE GAY GOSHAWK—C

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 435; communicated by Peter Buchan, from a MS. which had been sent him.

1

O well is me, my jolly goshawk,
That ye can speak and flee,
For ye can carry a love-letter
To my true-love from me.’

2

‘O how can I carry a letter to her,
When her I do not knaw?
I bear the lips to her never spake,
And the eyes that her never saw.’

3

‘The thing of my love's face is white
It's that of dove or maw;
The thing of my love's face that's red
Is like blood shed on snaw.

4

‘And when you come to the castle,
Light on the bush of ash,
And sit you there and sing our loves,
As she comes from the mass.

5

‘And when she goes into the house,
Sit ye upon the whin;
And sit you there and sing our loves,
As she goes out and in.’

6

And when he flew to that castel,
He lighted on the ash;
And there he sat and sang their loves,
As she came from the mass.

7

And when she went into the house,
He flew unto the whin;
And there he sat and sang their loves,
As she went out and in.

8

‘Come hither, come hither, my maidens all,
And sip red wine anon,
Till I go to my west window,
And hear a birdie's moan.’

9

She's gone unto her west window,
And fainly aye it drew,
And soon into her white silk lap
The bird the letter threw.

10

‘Ye're bidden send your love a send,
For he has sent you twa;
And tell him where he can see you,
Or he cannot live ava.’

11

‘I send him the rings from my white fingers,
The garlands off my hair;
I send him the heart that's in my breast:
What would my love have mair?
And at the fourth kirk in fair Scotland,
Ye'll bid him meet me there.’

12

She hied her to her father dear,
As fast as gang could she:
‘An asking, an asking, my father dear,
An asking ye grant me;
That, if I die in fair England,
In Scotland bury me.

13

‘At the first kirk of fair Scotland,
You cause the bells be rung;
At the second kirk of fair Scotland,
You cause the mass be sung.

14

‘At the third kirk of fair Scotland,
You deal gold for my sake;
And the fourth kirk of fair Scotland,
O there you'll bury me at.

361

15

‘And now, my tender father dear,
This asking grant you me;’
‘Your asking is but small,’ he said,
‘Weel granted it shall be.’

16

She hied her to her mother dear,
As fast as gang could she:
‘An asking, an asking, my mother dear,
An asking ye grant me;
That if I die in fair England
In Scotland bury me.

17

‘And now, my tender mother dear,
This asking grant you me;’
‘Your asking is but small,’ she said,
‘Weel granted it shall be.’

18

She hied her to her sister dear,
As fast as gang could she:
‘An asking, an asking, my sister dear,
An asking ye grant me;
That if I die in fair England,
In Scotland bury me.

19

‘And now, my tender sister dear,
This asking grant you me:’
‘Your asking is but small,’ she said,
‘Weel granted it shall be.’

20

She hied her to her seven brothers,
As fast as gang could she:
‘An asking, an asking, my brothers seven,
An asking ye grant me;
That if I die in fair England,
In Scotland ye bury me.

21

‘And now, my tender brothers dear,
This asking grant you me:’
‘Your asking is but small,’ they said,
‘Weel granted it shall be.’

22

Then down as dead that lady drapd,
Beside her mother's knee;
Then out it spoke an auld witch-wife,
By the fire-side sat she.

23

Says, Drap the hot lead on her cheek,
And drop it on her chin,
And drop it on her rose-red lips,
And she will speak again:
For much a lady young will do,
To her true-love to win.

24

They drapd the het lead on her cheek,
So did they on her chin;
They drapt it on her red-rose lips,
But they breathed none again.

25

Her brothers they went to a room,
To make to her a bier;
The boards of it was cedar wood,
And the plates ow it gold so clear.

26

Her sisters they went to a room,
To make to her a sark;
The cloth of it was satin fine,
And the steeking silken wark.

27

‘But well is me, my jolly goshawk,
That ye can speak and flee;
Come shew to me any love-tokens
That you have brought to me.’

28

‘She sends you the rings from her fingers,
The garlands from her hair;
She sends you the heart within her breast;
And what would you have mair?
And at the fourth kirk of fair Scotland,
She bids you meet her there.’

29

‘Come hither, all my merry young men,
And drink the good red wine;
For we must on to fair Scotland,
To free my love frae pine.’

30

At the first kirk of fair Scotland,
They gart the bells be rung;
At the second kirk of fair Scotland,
They gart the mass be sung.

31

At the third kirk of fair Scotland,
They dealt gold for her sake;
And the fourth kirk of fair Scotland
Her true-love met them at.

32

‘Set down, set down the corpse,’ he said,
‘Till I look on the dead;
The last time that I saw her face,
She ruddy was and red;
But now, alas, and woe is me!
She's wallowit like a weed.’

33

He rent the sheet upon her face,
A little above her chin;
With lily-white cheeks, and lemin een,
She lookt and laughd to him.

362

34

‘Give me a chive of your bread, my love,
A bottle of your wine;
For I have fasted for your love
These long days nine;
There's not a steed in your stable
But would have been dead ere syne.

35

‘Go home, go home, my seven brothers,
Go home and blow the horn;
For you can say in the south of England
Your sister gave you a scorn.

36

‘I came not here to fair Scotland
To lye amang the meal;
But I came here to fair Scotland
To wear the silks so weel.

37

‘I came not here to fair Scotland
To ly amang the dead;
But I came here to fair Scotland
To wear the gold so red.’

The Gay Goss-hawk

THE GAY GOSHAWK—D

[_]

Motherwell's Note-Book, pp 27-30, Motherwell's MS., pp 415-17; from Agnes Laird, Kilbarchan, August 24, 1825.

1

O where'll I get a pretty little bird
That'll go my errand soon,
That will fly to the Queen of England's dochter,
And bid my trew-luve come?’

2

‘Here am I, a pretty little bird,
That'll go your errands soon,
That will fly to the Queen of England's daughter,
And bid your trew-luve come.’

3

This wee birdie's taken its flight,
And it's flown owre the sea,
Until it cam to the Queen of England's daughter;
She's sitting in her bower-windie.

4

Then out bespoke these nine ladies,
As they sat in a ring:
‘O we'll awa to the west window,
To hear this birdie sing.’

5

This wee birdie's taken its flight,
And it's flown owre them a',
And at the lady's left shoulder
It loot a letter fa.

6

She has taken the letter up,
And read it speedilie:
‘O mother, the queen, O mother, the queen,
Grant this request to me;
Whenever I do chance for to die,
In Scotland gar bury me.’
[OMITTED]

7

‘Bring to me the red, red lead,
And rub it on her chin;
It's Oh and alace for my dochter Janet!
But there is not a breath within.

8

‘Bring to me the red, red lead,
And rub it on her toe;
It's Oh and alace for my daughter Janet!
To Scotland she must go.’

9

‘Rise up, rise up, ye seven sisters,
And make her winding sheet,
With the one side of the beaten gold,
And the other o the needle-wark.

10

‘Rise up, rise up, ye seven brethren,
And make her carriage-bier,
With the one side of the beaten gold,
And the other o the silver clear.’

11

They've carried east, they've carried west,
They've carried her high and low,
Until that they came to the king of Scotland,
Was sitting in his bower-window.

12

‘Here is a token of your trew-love,
And here is a token come down,
For she is dead, and she's ready to be buried,
And she wants to be laid in your ground.’

13

He's taen out his mickle knife,
And tore her winding sheet,
And there she lay like the crimson red,
And she smiled in his face so sweet.

363

14

‘Go home, go home, you seven brethren,
Go home and saw your corn,
For she is fit for the queen of Scotland now,
And she's gien you the scorn.

15

‘Go home, go home, you seven sisters,
Go home and sew your seam,
For she is fit for the queen of Scotland now,
And she's ready to be my queen.’

The Gay Goss-hawk

THE GAY GOSHAWK—E

[_]

Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, II, 7, 1802; III, 151, 1833.

1

O waly, waly, my gay goss-hawk,
Gin your feathering be sheen!’
‘And waly, waly, my master dear,
Gin ye look pale and lean!

2

‘O have ye tint at tournament
Your sword, or yet your spear?
Or mourn ye for the southern lass,
Whom you may not win near?’

3

‘I have not tint at tournament
My sword, nor yet my spear,
But sair I mourn for my true-love,
Wi mony a bitter tear.

4

‘But weel's me on ye, my gay goss-hawk,
Ye can baith speak and flee;
Ye sall carry a letter to my love,
Bring an answer back to me.’

5

‘But how sall I your true-love find,
Or how suld I her know?
I bear a tongue neer wi her spake,
An eye that neer her saw.’

6

‘O weel sall ye my true-love ken,
Sae sune as ye her see,
For of a' the flowers of fair England,
The fairest flower is she.

7

‘The red that's on my true-love's cheik
Is like blood-drops on the snaw;
The white that is on her breast bare
Like the down o the white sea-maw.

8

‘And even at my love's bouer-door
There grows a flowering birk,
And ye maun sit and sing thereon,
As she gangs to the kirk.

9

‘And four-and-twenty fair ladyes
Will to the mass repair,
But weel may ye my ladye ken,
The fairest ladye there.’

10

Lord William has written a love-letter,
Put it under his pinion gray,
And he is awa to southern land,
As fast as wings can gae.

11

And even at that ladye's bour
There grew a flowering birk,
And he sat down and sang thereon,
As she gaed to the kirk.

12

And weel he kent that ladye feir
Amang her maidens free,
For the flower that springs in May morning
Was not sae sweet as she.

13

[He lighted at the ladye's yate,
And sat him on a pin,
And sang fu sweet the notes o love,
Till a' was cosh within.]

14

And first he sang a low, low note,
And syne he sang a clear,
And aye the oerword of the sang
Was, Your love can no win here.

15

‘Feast on, feast on, my maidens a',
The wine flows you amang,
While I gang to my shot-window,
And hear yon bonny bird's sang.

16

‘Sing on, sing on, my bonny bird,
The sang ye sung yestreen;
For weel I ken by your sweet singing
Ye are frae my true-love sen.’

17

O first he sang a merry sang,
And syne he sang a grave,
And syne he peckd his feathers gray,
To her the letter gave.

18

‘Have there a letter from Lord William;
He says he's sent ye three;

364

He canna wait your love langer,
But for your sake he'll die.’

19

‘Gae bid him bake his bridal bread,
And brew his bridal ale,
And I sall meet him at Mary's kirk,
Lang, lang ere it be stale.’

20

The lady's gane to her chamber,
And a moanfu woman was she,
As gin she had taen a sudden brash,
And were about to die.

21

‘A boon, a boon, my father deir,
A boon I beg of thee!’
‘Ask not that paughty Scotish lord,
For him you neer shall see.

22

‘But, for your honest asking else,
Weel granted it shall be:’
‘Then, gin I die in southern land,
In Scotland gar bury me.

23

‘And the first kirk that ye come to,
Ye's gar the mass be sung,
And the next kirk that ye come to,
Ye's gar the bells be rung.

24

‘And when ye come to St Mary's kirk,
Ye's tarry there till night:’
And so her father pledged his word,
And so his promise plight.

25

She has taen her to her bigly bour,
As fast as she could fare,
And she has drank a sleepy draught,
That she had mixed wi care.

26

And pale, pale grew her rosy cheek,
That was sae bright of blee,
And she seemed to be as surely dead
As any one could be.

27

They drapt a drap o the burning red gowd,
They drapt it on her chin;
‘And ever alas,’ her mother cried,
‘There is nae life within!’

28

They drapt a drap o the burning red gowd,
They drapt it on her breast-bane;
‘Alas,’ her seven bauld brothers said,
‘Our sister's dead and gane!’

29

Then up arose her seven brethren,
And hewd to her a bier;
They hewd it frae the solid aik,
Laid it oer wi silver clear.

30

Then up and gat her seven sisters,
And sewed to her a kell,
And every steek that they pat in
Sewd to a siller bell.

31

The first Scots kirk that they cam to,
They gard the bells be rung;
The next Scots kirk that they cam to,
They gard the mass be sung.

32

But when they cam to St Mary's kirk,
There stude spearmen all on raw,
And up and started Lord William,
The chieftane amang them a'.

33

‘Set down, set down the bier,’ he said,
‘Let me looke her upon:’
But as soon as Lord William touched her hand,
Her colour began to come.

34

She brightened like the lily-flower,
Till her pale colour was gone;
With rosy cheek, and ruby lip,
She smiled her love upon.

35

‘A morsel of your bread, my lord,
A one glass of your wine,
For I hae fasted these three lang days,
All for your sake and mine.

36

‘Gae hame, gae hame, my seven bauld brothers,
Gae hame and blaw your horn;
I trow you wad hae gien me the skaith,
But I've gien you the scorn.

37

‘Ah woe to you, you light woman,
An ill death may you die!
For we left father and mother at hame
Breaking their hearts for thee.’

365

THE GAY GOSHAWK—F

[_]

From Miss Margaret Reburn, as sung in County Meath, Ireland, about 1860.

[OMITTED]

1

She got three drops of boiling lead,
And dropped them on her hand:
‘Oh and alas, my daughter dear,
I'd rather all my land!’

2

She got three drops of boiling lead,
And dropped them on her chin:
‘Oh and alas, my daughter dear,
There is no life within!’

3

She got three drops of boiling lead,
And dropped them on her toe:
‘Oh and alas, my daughter dear,
To fair Scotland you must go!’
[OMITTED]

4

‘Give me a cake of the new made bread,
And a cup of the new made wine,
For for your sake, Lord Thomas,’ she said,
‘I fasted those days nine.’

The Scottish Squire

THE GAY GOSHAWK—G

[_]

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 245, “from recitation.”

1

When grass grew green on Lanark plains,
And fruit and flowers did spring,
A Scottish squire in cheerfu strains,
Sae merrily thus did sing:

2

‘O well fails me o my parrot
That he can speak and flee;
For he will carry love-letters
Between my love and me.

3

‘And well fails me o my parrot
He can baith speak and gang;
And he will carry love-letters
To the maid in South England.’

4

‘O how shall I your love find out?
Or how shall I her know?
When my tongue with her never spake,
Nor my eyes her ever saw.’

5

‘O what is red of her is red
As blude drappd on the snaw;
And what is white o her is white
As milk, or the sea-maw.

6

‘Even before that lady's yetts
You'll find a bowing birk;
And there ye'll sit, and sing thereon,
Till she gaes to the kirk.

7

‘Then even before that lady's yetts
You'll find a bowing ash;
And ye may sit and sing thereon,
Till she comes frae the mass.

8

‘And even before that lady's window
You'll find a bed o tyme;
And ye may sit and sing thereon,
Till she sits down to dine.

9

‘Even abeen that lady's window
There's fixd a siller pin;
And a' these words that I tell you,
Ye'll sit and sing therein.

10

‘Ye'll bid her send her love a letter,
For he has sent her five;
And he'll never send anither ane,
To nae woman alive.

11

‘Ye'll bid her send her love a letter,
For he has sent her seven;
And he'll never send anither send,
To nae maid under heaven.’

12

This little bird then took his flight,
Beyond the raging sea,
And lighted at that lady's yetts,
On tower o gowd sae hie.

13

Even before that lady's yetts
He found a bowing birk;
And there he sat, and sang thereon,
Till she went to the kirk.

14

Even before that lady's yetts
He found a bowing ash;
And then he sat and sang thereon,
Till she came frae the mass.

15

Even before that lady's window
He found a bed o tyme;
And then he sat and sang thereon,
Till she sat down to dine.

366

16

Even abeen that lady's window
Was fixd a siller pin;
And a' the words that were tauld him,
He sat and sang them in.

17

‘You're bidden send your love a letter,
For he has sent you five;
Or he'll never send anither send,
To nae woman alive.

18

‘You're bidden send your love a letter,
For he has sent you seven;
And he'll never send anither send,
To nae maid under heaven.’

19

‘Sit in the hall, good ladies all,
And drink the wine sae red,
And I will to yon small window,
And hear yon birdie's leed.

20

‘Sing on, sing on, my bonny bird,
The sang ye sung just now;’
‘I'll sing nae mair, ye lady fair,
My errand is to you.’

21

‘If ye be my true-lovie's bird,
Sae well's I will you ken;
You will gae in at my gown-sleeve,
Come out at my gown-hem.’

22

‘That I am come frae your true-love,
You soon shall see right plain;
And read these lines below my wing,
That I hae brought frae him.’

23

When she looked these lines upon,
She read them, and she leuch:
‘O well fails me, my true-love, now,
O this I hae eneuch.

24

‘Here is the broach on my breast-bane,
The garlings frae my hair,
Likewise the heart that is within;
What woud my love hae mair?

25

‘The nearest kirk in fair Scotland,
Ye'll bid him meet me there:’
She has gane to her dear father,
Wi heart perplexd and sair.

26

When she came to her auld father,
Fell low down on her knee:
‘An asking, asking, father dear,
I pray you grant it me.’

27

‘Ask what you will, my dear daughter,
And I will grant it thee;
Unless to marry yon Scottish squire;
That's what shall never be.’

28

‘O that's the asking, father,’ she said,
‘That I'll neer ask of thee;
But if I die in South England,
In Scotland ye'll bury me.’

29

‘The asking's nae sae great, daughter,
But granted it shall be;
And tho ye die in South England,
In Scotland we'll bury thee.’

30

She has gane to her step-mother,
Fell low down on her knee:
‘An asking, asking, mother dear,
I pray you grant it me.’

31

‘Ask what ye please, my lily-white dove,
And granted it shall be:’
‘If I do die in South England,
In Scotland bury me.’

32

‘Had these words spoke been in again,
I woud not granted thee;
You hae a love in fair Scotland,
Sae fain's you woud be tee.’

33

She scarce was to her chamber gane
Nor yet was well set down,
Till on the sofa where she sat
Fell in a deadly swoon.

34

Her father and her seven brithers,
They made for her a bier;
The one half o't was gude red gowd,
The other siller clear.

35

Her seven sisters were employed
In making her a sark;
The one half o't was cambric fine,
The other needle-wark.

36

Then out it speaks her auld step-dame,
Sat on the sofa's end:
Ye'll drap the het lead on her cheek,
Sae do you on her chin;
For women will use mony a wile
Their true-loves for to win.

37

Then up it raise her eldest brither,
Into her bower he's gane;
Then in it came her youngest brither,
The het leed to drap on.

38

He drapt it by her cheek, her cheek,
Sae did he by her chin;
Sae did he by her comely hause;
He knew life was therein.

39

The bier was made wi red gowd laid,
Sae curious round about;

367

A private entrance there contriv'd,
That her breath might win out.

40

The first an kirk in fair Scotland,
They gard the bells be rung;
The niest an kirk in fair Scotland,
They causd the mass be sung.

41

The third an kirk in fair Scotland,
They passd it quietly by;
The fourth an kirk in fair Scotland,
Clerk Sandy did them spy.

42

‘O down ye'll set this corpse o clay,
Lat me look on the dead;
For I may sigh, and say, alas!
For death has nae remeid.’

43

Then he has cut her winding sheet
A little below her chin,
And wi her sweet and ruby lips
She sweetly smil'd on him.

44

‘Gie me a sheave o your white bread,
A bottle o your wine;
For I hae fasted for your sake
Fully these lang days nine.

45

‘Gae hame, gae hame, my seven brithers,
Gae hame and blaw your trumpet;
And ye may tell to your step-dame
This day she is affronted.

46

‘I camna here to fair Scotland
To lye amo the dead;
But came to be Clerk Sandy's wife,
And lay gowd on my head.

47

‘Gae hame, gae hame, my seven brithers,
Gae hame and blaw your horn;
And ye may tell in fair England
In Scotland ye got the scorn.

48

‘I came not here to fair Scotland
To mix amang the clay;
But came to be Clerk Sandy's wife,
And wear gowd to my tae.’

49

‘Sin ye hae gien us this ae scorn,
We shall gie you anither;
Ye shall hae naething to live upon
But the bier that brought you hither.’


THE GAY GOSHAWK—H

[_]

“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 28 b, Abbotsford; in the handwriting of William Laidlaw.

1

Lord William was walkin i the garden green,
Viewin the roses red,
An there he spyed his bonnie spier-hawk,
Was fleein aboon his head.

2

‘O could ye speak, my bonnie spier-hawk,
As ye hae wings to flee,
Then ye wad carry a luve-letter
Atween my love an me.’

3

‘But how can I your true-love ken?
Or how can I her know?
Or how can I your true-love ken,
The face I never saw?’

4

‘Ye may esily my love ken
Amang them ye never saw;
The red that's on o my love's cheek
Is like bluid drapt on the snaw.’
[OMITTED]

5

‘O what will be my meat, master?
An what'll be my fee?
An what will be the love-tokens
That ye will send wi me?’

6

‘Ye may tell my love I'll send her a kiss,
A kiss, aye, will I three;
If ever she come [to] fair Scotland,
My wedded wife she's be.

7

‘Ye may tell my love I'll send her a kiss,
A kiss, aye, will I twae;
An ever she come to fair Scotland,
I the red gold she sall gae.’
[OMITTED]

8

The hawk flew high, an she flew leugh,
An south aneath the sun,
Untill it cam, etc.


9

‘Sit still, sit still, my six sisters,
An sew your silken seam,
Till I gae to my bower-window
An hear yon Scottish bird sing.’

10

Than she flew high, an she flew leugh,
An' far aboon the wa;
She drapit to that ladie's side,
An loot the letter fa.

11

‘What news, what news, my bonnie burd?
An what word carry ye?
An what are a' the love-tokens
My love has sent to me?’

12

‘O ye may send your love a kiss,
For he has sent ye three;
Ye hae the heart within his buik,
What mair can he send thee?’

13

‘O I will send my love a kiss,
A kiss, I, will I three;
If I can win to fair Scotland,
His wedded wife I'll be.

14

‘O I will send my love a kiss,
An the caim out o my hair;
He has the heart that's in my buik,
What can I send him mair?

15

‘An gae yer ways, my bonnie burd,
An tell my love frae me,
If [I] be na there gin Martinmas,
Gin Yool I there will be.’
[OMITTED]

16

'Twas up an spak her ill step-minnie,
An ill deed may she die!
‘Yer daughter Janet's taen her bed,
An she'll do nought but die.’

17

‘An askin, an askin, dear father,
An askin I crave o thee;
If I should die just at this time,
In Scotland burry me.’

18

‘There's room eneugh in wide England
To burry thee an me;
But sould ye die, my dear daughter,
I Scotland I'll burry thee.’

19

She's warnd the wrights in lilly Londeen,
She's warnd them ane an a',
To make a kist wi three windows,
The cauler air to blaw.

20

‘O will ye gae, my six sisters,
An sew to me a sheet,
The tae half o the silk sae fine,
The tother o cambric white.’

21

Then they hae askit the surgeon at, etc.

22

Then said her cruel step-minnie,
Take ye the boilin lead
An some o't drap on her bosom;
We'll see gif she be dead.

23

Then boilin lead than they hae taen
An drappit on her breast;
‘Alas! alas!’ than her father he cried,
‘For she's dead without the priest!’

24

She neither chatterd in her teeth
Nor shivert wi her chin;
‘Alas! alas!’ her father cried,
‘For there nae life within!’
[OMITTED]

25

‘It's nine lang days, an nine lang nights,
She's wantit meat for me;
But for nine days, nine langer nights,
Her face ye salna see.’

26

He's taen the coffin wi his fit,
Gard it in flinders flie, etc.

27

‘Fetch me,’ she said, ‘a cake o yer bread
An a wi drap o your wine,
For luve o you an for your sake
I've fastit lang nights nine.’

28

'Twas up then spak an eldrin knight,
A grey-haird knight was he;
‘Now ye hae left yer auld father,
For you he's like to die.

29

‘An ye hae left yer sax sisters
Lamentin a' for you;
I wiss that this, my dear ladie,
Ye near may hae to rue.’

30

‘Commend me to my auld father,
If eer ye come him niest;
But nought say to my ill step-minnie,
Gard burn me on the breist.

31

‘Commend me to my six sisters.
If ye gang bak again;
But nought say to my ill step-minnie,
Gard burn me on the chin.

32

‘Commend me to my brethren bald,
An ever ye them see;
If ever they come to fair Scotland
They's fare nae war than me.

33

‘For I cam na to fair Scotland
To lie amang the dead,
But I cam down to fair Scotland
To wear goud on my head.

34

‘Nor did I come to fair Scotland
To rot amang the clay,
But I cam to fair Scotland
To wear goud ilka day.’

368

97
BROWN ROBIN

Brown Robin

BROWN ROBIN—A

[_]

a. Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 37. b. Abbotsford MS., “Scottish Songs.”

1

The king but an his nobles a'
[_]

bis


Sat birling at the wine;
[_]

bis


He would ha nane but his ae daughter
To wait on them at dine.

2

She's servd them butt, she's servd them ben,
Intill a gown of green,
But her ee was ay on Brown Robin,
That stood low under the rain.

3

She's doen her to her bigly bowr,
As fast as she coud gang,
An there she's drawn her shot-window,
An she's harped an she sang.

4

‘There sits a bird i my father's garden,
An O but she sings sweet!
I hope to live an see the day
Whan wi my love I'll meet.’

5

‘O gin that ye like me as well
As your tongue tells to me,
What hour o the night, my lady bright,
At your bowr sal I be?’

6

‘Whan my father an gay Gilbert
Are baith set at the wine,
O ready, ready I will be
To lat my true-love in.’

7

O she has birld her father's porter
Wi strong beer an wi wine,
Untill he was as beastly drunk
As ony wild-wood swine:
She's stown the keys o her father's yates
An latten her true-love in.

369

8

Whan night was gane, an day was come,
An the sun shone on their feet,
Then out it spake him Brown Robin,
I'll be discoverd yet.

9

Then out it spake that gay lady:
My love, ye need na doubt;
For wi ae wile I've got you in,
Wi anither I'll bring you out.

10

She's taen her to her father's cellar,
As fast as she can fare;
She's drawn a cup o the gude red wine,
Hung't low down by her gare;
An she met wi her father dear
Just coming down the stair.

11

‘I woud na gi that cup, daughter,
That ye hold i your han
For a' the wines in my cellar,
An gantrees whare the stan.’

12

‘O wae be to your wine, father,
That ever't came oer the sea;
'T'is pitten my head in sick a steer
I my bowr I canna be.’

13

‘Gang out, gang out, my daughter dear,
Gang out an tack the air;
Gang out an walk i the good green wood,
An a' your marys fair.’

14

Then out it spake the proud porter —
Our lady wishd him shame —
‘We'll send the marys to the wood,
But we'll keep our lady at hame.’

15

‘There's thirty marys i my bowr,
There's thirty o them an three;
But there's nae ane amo them a'
Kens what flowr gains for me.’

16

She's doen her to her bigly bowr,
As fast as she could gang,
An she has dresst him Brown Robin
Like ony bowr-woman.

17

The gown she pat upon her love
Was o the dainty green,
His hose was o the saft, saft silk,
His shoon o the cordwain fine.

18

She's pitten his bow in her bosom,
His arrow in her sleeve,
His sturdy bran her body next,
Because he was her love.

19

Then she is unto her bowr-door,
As fast as she coud gang;
But out it spake the proud porter —
Our lady wishd him shame —
‘We'll count our marys to the wood,
An we'll count them back again.’

20

The firsten mary she sent out
Was Brown Robin by name;
Then out it spake the king himsel,
‘This is a sturdy dame.’

21

O she went out in a May morning,
In a May morning so gay,
But she came never back again,
Her auld father to see.

Love Robbie

BROWN ROBIN—B

[_]

Christie's Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 136, from the recitation of an old woman in Buckie, Enzie, Banffshire.

1

A featherd fowl's in your orchard, father,
O dear, but it sings sweet!
What would I give, my father dear,
That bonnie bird to meet!’
What would I give, etc.

2

‘O hold your tongue, my daughter Mary,
Let a' your folly be;
There's six Scots lords tomorrow, child,
That will a' dine wi me,
And ye maun serve them a', Mary,
As't were for meat and fee.’

3

She served them up, sae has she down,
The footmen a' the same,
But her mind was aye on Love Robbie,
Stood out below the rain.

4

A hundred pun o pennies roun,
Tied in a towel so sma,
She has gien to him Love Robbie,
Out oer the castle-wa;
Says, Tak ye that, my love Robbie.
And mysel ye may hae.

370

5

A hundred pun o pennies roun,
Tied in a napkin white,
She has gien to him Love Robbie,
Out oer the garden-dyke;
Says, Tak ye that, my Love Robbie,
And mysel gin ye like.

6

‘If this be true ye tell to me,
As your tongue woudna lee,
I shall be in your bigly bower
Before the clock strike three;
I shall be in your bigly bower,
Dressd like a gay ladye.’

7

When bells were rung, and mass was sung,
And all men bound for bed,
Love Robbie came to Mary's bower,
Dressd like a comely maid.

8

They had not kissd nor love clappëd,
As lovers when they meet,
Till sighing said he Love Robbie,
My life, my life I doubt.

9

‘Your life, your life, you Love Robbie,
Your life you needna doubt;
For it was wiles brought in Robbie,
And wiles will lat him out.’

10

Then in it came her father dear,
And stood upon the floor,
And she filld the cup of good red wine,
Said, Father, will ye drink more?

11

‘O better I love the cup, Mary,
The cup that's in your hand,
Than all my barrels full of wine,
On the gantrees where they stand.’

12

‘O woe be to your wine, father,
It eer came oer the sea!
If I getna the air o good greenwood
O I will surely dee.’

13

‘There's seven maries in your bower,
There's seven o them and three,
And I'll send them to good greenwood,
For flowers to shortsome thee.’

14

‘There's seven maries in my bower,
There's seven o them and three,
But there's nae a mary mang them a'
Can pu flowers to shortsome me:’
‘Then by my sooth,’ said her father dear,
‘Let yoursel gang them wi.’

15

She dressd hersel in the royal red,
Love Robbie was in dainty green;
Love Robbie's brand was about his middle,
And he shone like ony queen.

16

The firsten ane that took the floor,
Love Robbie was that ane:
‘Now by my sooth,’ said the proud porter,
‘She is a sonsie dame;
I would not care now very much
To turn her in again.’

17

‘I'd fain see any woman or man,
Of high or low degree,
Would turn a mary in again
That once came out with me.’

18

They had not been in good greenwood,
Pu'd a flower but only three,
Till the porter stood behind a bush,
And shot him Love Robbie.

19

Now word has come to her father dear,
In the chamber where he lay,
Lady Mary's sick in good greenwood,
And cannot come away.

20

He's taen his mantle him about,
His cane into his han,
And he is on to good greenwood,
As fast as he could gang.

21

‘O want you fish out o the fleed,
Or whale out o the sea?
Or is there any one alive
This day has angerd thee?’

22

‘I want not fish out o the fleed,
Nor whale out o the sea;
But woe be to your proud porter,
Sae sair's he's angerd me!
He's shot the fairest flower this day,
That would hae comfort me.’

23

‘O hold your tongue, my daughter Mary,
Let a' your folly be;
Tomorrow ere I eat or drink
High hangëd shall he be.’

371

Brown Robyn and Mally

BROWN ROBIN—C

[_]

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 299.

1

There is a bird in my father's orchard,
And dear, but it sings sweet!
I hope to live to see the day
This bird and I will meet.’

2

‘O hold your tongue, my daughter Mally,
Let a' your folly be;
What bird is that in my orchard
Sae shortsome is to thee?

3

‘There are four-an-twenty noble lords
The morn shoud dine wi me;
And ye maun serve them a', Mally,
Like one for meat and fee.’

4

She servd the nobles all as one,
The horsemen much the same;
But her mind was aye to Brown Robyn,
Beneath the heavy rain.

5

Then she's rowd up a thousand pounds
Intil a servit white,
And she gae that to Brown Robyn,
Out ower the garden-dyke:
Says, Take ye that, my love Robyn,
And mysell gin ye like.

6

‘If this be true, my dame,’ he said,
‘That ye hae tauld to me,
About the hour o twall at night,
At your bower-door I'll be.’

7

But ere the hour o twall did chap,
And lang ere it was ten,
She had hersell there right and ready
To lat Brown Robyn in.

8

They hadna kissd nor love clapped
Till the birds sang on the ha;
‘O,’ sighing says him Brown Robyn,
‘I wish I were awa!’

9

They hadna sitten muckle langer
Till the guards shot ower the way;
Then sighing says him Brown Robyn,
‘I fear my life this day.’

10

‘O had your tongue, my love Robyn,
Of this take ye nae doubt;
It was by wiles I brought you in,
By wiles I'll bring you out.’

11

Then she's taen up a cup o wine,
To her father went she;
‘O drink the wine, father,’ she said,
‘O drink the wine wi me.’

12

‘O well love I the cup, daughter,
But better love I the wine;
And better love I your fair body
Than a' the gowd in Spain.’

13

‘Wae be to the wine, father,
That last came ower the sea;
Without the air o gude greenwood,
There's nae remeid for me.’

14

‘Ye've thirty maries in your bower,
Ye've thirty and hae three;
Send ane o them to pu a flower,
Stay ye at hame wi me.’

15

‘I've thirty maries in my bower,
I've thirty o them and nine;
But there's nae a marie amo them a'
That kens my grief and mind.

16

‘For they may pu the nut, the nut,
And sae may they the slae,
But there's nane amo them a' that kens
The herb that I woud hae.’

17

‘Well, gin ye gang to gude greenwood,
Come shortly back again;
Ye are sae fair and are sae rare,
Your body may get harm.’

18

She dressd hersell into the red,
Brown Robyn all in green,
And put his brand across his middle,
He was a stately dame.

19

The first ane stepped ower the yett,
It was him Brown Robyn;
‘By my sooth,’ said the proud porter,
‘This is a stately dame.

20

‘O wi your leave, lady,’ he said,
‘And leave o a' your kin,
I woudna think it a great sin
To turn that marie in.’

21

‘O had your tongue, ye proud porter,
Let a' your folly be;
Ye darena turn a marie in
That ance came forth wi me.’

372

22

‘Well shall I call your maries out,
And as well shall I in;
For I am safe to gie my oath
That marie is a man.’

23

Soon she went to gude greenwood,
And soon came back again;
‘Gude sooth,’ replied the proud porter,
‘We've lost our stately dame.’

24

‘My maid's faen sick in gude greenwood,
And sick and liken to die;
The morn before the cocks do craw,
That marie I maun see.’

25

Out it spake her father then,
Says, Porter, let me know
If I will cause her stay at hame,
Or shall I let her go?

26

‘She says her maid's sick in the wood,
And sick and like to die;
I really think she is too gude
Nor ever woud make a lie.’

27

Then he whispered in her ear,
As she was passing by,
‘What will ye say if I reveal
What I saw wi my eye?’

28

‘If ought ye ken about the same,
O heal that well on me,
And if I live or brook my life,
Rewarded ye shall be.’

29

Then she got leave o her father
To gude greenwood again,
And she is gane wi Brown Robyn,
But't was lang ere she came hame.

30

O then her father began to mourn,
And thus lamented he:
‘O I woud gie ten thousand pounds
‘My daughter for to see.’

31

‘If ye will promise,’ the porter said,
‘To do nae injury,
I will find out your daughter dear,
And them that's gane her wi.’

32

Then he did swear a solemn oath,
By a' his gowd and land,
Nae injury to them's be dune,
Whether it be maid or man.

33

The porter then a letter wrote,
And seald it wi his hand,
And sent it to that lady fair,
For to return hame.

34

When she came to her father's ha,
He received her joyfullie,
And married her to Brown Robyn;
Now a happy man was he.

35

She hadna been in her father's ha
A day but barely three,
Till she settled the porter well for life,
Wi gowd and white monie.

373

98
BROWN ADAM


374

Brown Adam

BROWN ADAM—A

[_]

Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 17.

1

O wha woud wish the win to blaw,
Or the green leaves fa therewith?
Or wha wad wish a leeler love
Than Brown Adam the Smith?

2

His hammer's o the beaten gold,
His study's o the steel,
His fingers white are my delite,
He blows his bellows well.

3

But they ha banishd him Brown Adam
Frae father and frae mither,
An they ha banishd him Brown Adam
Frae sister and frae brither.

4

And they ha banishd Brown Adam
Frae the flowr o a' his kin;
An he's biggit a bowr i the good green wood
Betwen his lady an him.

5

O it fell once upon a day
Brown Adam he thought lang,
An he woud to the green wood gang,
To hunt some venison.

6

He's ta'en his bow his arm oer,
His bran intill his han,
And he is to the good green wood,
As fast as he coud gang.

7

O he's shot up, an he's shot down,
The bird upo the briar,
An he's sent it hame to his lady,
Bade her be of good cheer.

8

O he's shot up, an he's shot down,
The bird upo the thorn,
And sent it hame to his lady,
And hee'd be hame the morn.

9

Whan he came till his lady's bowr-door
He stood a little foreby,
And there he heard a fu fa'se knight
Temptin his gay lady.

10

O he's taen out a gay gold ring,
Had cost him mony a poun:
‘O grant me love for love, lady,
An this sal be your own.’

11

‘I loo Brown Adam well,’ she says,
‘I wot sae does he me;
An I woud na gi Brown Adam's love
For nae fa'se knight I see.’

12

Out has he ta'en a purse of gold,
Was a' fu to the string:
‘Grant me but love for love, lady,
An a' this sal be thine.’

13

‘I loo Brown Adam well,’ she says,
‘An I ken sae does he me;
An I woudna be your light leman
For mair nor ye coud gie.’

14

Then out has he drawn his lang, lang bran,
And he's flashd it in her een:
‘Now grant me love for love, lady,
Or thro you this sal gang!’

15

‘O,’ sighing said that gay lady,
‘Brown Adam tarrys lang!’
Then up it starts Brown Adam,
Says, I'm just at your han.

16

He's gard him leave his bow, his bow,
He's gard him leave his bran;
He's gard him leave a better pledge,
Four fingers o his right han.

Broun Edom

BROWN ADAM—B

[_]

Harris MS., fol. 27 b, No 26.

1

[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
For wha ere had a lealer luve
Than Broun Edom the smith?

2

His studie was o the beaten gowd,
His hammer o the pith;
His cords waur o the gude green silk,
That blew his bellows with.

3

It fell out ance upon a time
Broun Edom he thoucht lang,
That he wald gae to see his luve,
By the le licht o the mune.

375

Brown Adam the Smith

BROWN ADAM—C

[_]

Buchan MSS, I, 46.

1

O wha woud wish the win to blaw,
The green leaves fa therewith?
O wha would wish a leeler luve
Than Brown Adam the Smith?

2

O he forsook the royal court,
And knights and lords sae gude,
And he is to the black smithy,
To learn to shoe a steed.

3

His hammer-shaft o gude red gowd,
His studdy o the steel,
His fingers whyte, and maids' delight,
And blaws his bellows weel.

4

He being a favourite with the king
Caused him get mony a fae,
And sae their plots they did contrive
To work him grief and wae.

5

Of treason then he was accused
By his fause enemie,
Which caused the king to make a vow
That banishd he shoud be.

6

Then banishd hae they Brown Adam
Frae father and frae mither,
And banishd hae they him Brown Adam
Frae sister and frae brither.

7

And they hae banishd him Brown Adam,
The flower o a' his kin;
He built a bower in gude green wood,
For his true love and him.

8

But it fell ance upon a day
The king's young son thought lang,
And minded him on Brown Adam,
Oft rade on his right han.

9

Then he sent for him Brown Adam,
To shoe his milk-white steed,
That he might see him ance in court,
Mang knights o noble bleed.

10

When Brown Adam he read these lines,
A light laugh then gae hee:
‘What's this that's made their hearts to fa,
They lang sae sair for mee?’

11

Then out it speaks his gay ladye:
Brown Adam, bide wi mee;
For if ye gang to court, I fear
Your face I'll never see.

12

‘Cheer up your heart, my ain true-love,
Let naething cause your grief;
Though I be absent for some days,
Ye seen will get relief.’

13

Then he has kissd his gay ladye,
And rade alang the lay,
And hunted a' the wild birds there,
As he rade on the way.

14

He shot the bunting o the bush,
The linnet o the brier,
And sent them on to gude green wood,
His ladye's heart to cheer.

15

He shot the bunting o the bush,
The linnet o the wand,
And sent them on to his ladye,
Forbade her to think lang.

16

He shot the bunting o the bush,
The linnet o the thorn,
And sent them on to his ladye,
Said he'd be hame the morn.

17

A thought then came into his mind,
As he rade on the way,
Some evil in his absence might
Befa his ladye gay.

18

Now when he had the prince' steed shod,
And bound again to ryde,
He turned his horse to Ringlewood;
Some days he meant to byde.

19

But when he turned to Ringlewood,
Ae foot's horse woudna ryde;
Whan he turned to his luver's bower,
He flew like ony glyde.

20

When he drew near to his luve's bower,
There he alighted down,
For the hearing o his great horse tramp
Ere he wan to the town.

21

Whan he came to his luver's bower,
He heard a dolefu din;
He wasna aware o a fu fause knight,
His true-love's bower within.

22

He bound his steed to his ain stall,
And gae him corn and hay,
And listened at a shott-window,
To hear what he would say.

23

The first and thing the knight drew out,
It was a coffer fine;
It was as fu o gude black silk,
Make ladyes for to shine.

376

24

‘Ye are too lack o luve, ladye,
And that's a hatefu thing;
Luve me, and lat Brown Adam be,
And a' this shall be thine.’

25

‘O well I like Brown Adam,’ she said,
‘I wyte hee hates nae mee;
I winna forsake him Brown Adam
For a' your gifts an thee.’

26

The next and thing the knight drew out,
It was a coffer small;
It was as fou o shambo gluves,
Woud had her hands frae caul.

27

‘Ye are too lack o luve, ladye,
An that's a hatefu thing;
Luve me, an lat Brown Adam be,
An a' this shall be thine.’

28

‘O well like I Brown Adam,’ she said,
‘I'm sure he hates nae me;
I winna forsake him Brown Adam
For a' your gifts an thee.’

29

The next and thing the knight drew out
It was a coffer fine;
It was as fu of gude red gowd
As a guinea coud get in.

30

‘You are too lack o luve, ladye,
And that's a hatefu thing;
Luve me, and lat Brown Adam be,
And a' this shall be thine.’

31

‘O well I like Brown Adam,’ she said,
‘I'm sure hee hates nae mee;
I winna forsake him Brown Adam
For a' the gowd ye'll gie.’

32

Then his mild mood did quickly change,
And grew mair fierce and cruel,
And then drew out a trusty brand,
Which made her heart to pruel.

33

‘Since I by you am slighted sae,
Since I frae you maun part,
I swear a vow before I gae,
That this shall pierce your heart.’

34

‘But still I like Brown Adam,’ she said,
‘I wat hee hates nae mee;
And if he knew my troubles now
At my call woud hee be.

35

‘Although he were sax miles awa,
He'd seen be at my han;
But wae is me, sae may I say,
Brown Adam tarries lang!’

36

He hit the door then wi his foot,
Made a' the bands to flee:
‘Cheer up your heart, my luve Janet,
Your love's nae far frae thee.’

37

Then he drew out a trusty brand,
And chassd him thro the ha;
The knight jumpd to a shott-window,
And woud hae been awa.

38

‘Stay still, stay still,’ Brown Adam said,
‘Make nae sic haste frae mee;
You or I maun rue the race
That I came ower the lee.’

39

Then frae the knight he's taen a wad,
His mantle and his brand;
Likewise he's taen anither wad,
His sword and his sword-hand.

40

He threw him ower the shott-window,
Bade him lie there wi care,
And never come back to gude green wood
To marr fair ladies mair.

41

‘O I am brown,’ said Brown Adam,
‘And I was never whyte;
But my love has robes o different hues,
To wear at her delyght.

42

‘Her kirchies be o cambricks fine,
Wi gowd pinnd to the chin;
Her robes shall be o the scarlet hue
She shall gang daily in.’

377

99
JOHNIE SCOT


379

Jack, the Little Scot

JOHNIE SCOT—A

[_]

Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 5.

1

O Johney was as brave a knight
As ever saild the sea,
An he's done him to the English court,
To serve for meat and fee.

2

He had nae been in fair England
But yet a little while,
Untill the kingis ae daughter
To Johney proves wi chil.

3

O word's come to the king himsel,
In his chair where he sat,
That his ae daughter was wi bairn
To Jack, the Little Scott.

4

‘Gin this be true that I do hear,
As I trust well it be,
Ye pit her into prison strong,
An starve her till she die.’

5

O Johney's on to fair Scotland,
A wot he went wi speed,
An he has left the kingis court,
A wot good was his need.

6

O it fell once upon a day
That Johney he thought lang,
An he's gane to the good green wood,
As fast as he coud gang.

7

‘O whare will I get a bonny boy,
To rin my errand soon,
That will rin into fair England,
An haste him back again?’

8

O up it starts a bonny boy,
Gold yallow was his hair,
I wish his mither meickle joy,
His bonny love mieckle mair.

9

‘O here am I, a bonny boy,
Will rin your errand soon;
I will gang into fair England,
An come right soon again.’

10

O whan he came to broken briggs,
He bent his bow and swam;
An whan he came to the green grass growan,
He slaikid his shoone an ran.

11

Whan he came to yon high castèl,
He ran it roun about,
An there he saw the king's daughter,
At the window looking out.

12

‘O here's a sark o silk, lady,
Your ain han sewd the sleeve;
You'r bidden come to fair Scotlan,
Speer nane o your parents leave.

13

‘Ha, take this sark o silk, lady,
Your ain han sewd the gare;
You're bidden come to good green wood,
Love Johney waits you there.’

14

She's turnd her right and roun about,
The tear was in her ee:
‘How can I come to my true-love,
Except I had wings to flee?

15

‘Here am I kept wi bars and bolts,
Most grievous to behold;

380

My breast-plate's o the sturdy steel,
Instead of the beaten gold.

16

‘But tak this purse, my bonny boy,
Ye well deserve a fee,
An bear this letter to my love,
An tell him what you see.’

17

Then quickly ran the bonny boy
Again to Scotlan fair,
An soon he reachd Pitnachton's towrs,
An soon found Johney there.

18

He pat the letter in his han
An taul him what he sa,
But eer he half the letter read,
He loote the tears doun fa.

19

‘O I will gae back to fair Englan,
Tho death shoud me betide,
An I will relieve the damesel
That lay last by my side.’

20

Then out it spake his father dear,
My son, you are to blame;
An gin you'r catchd on English groun,
I fear you'll neer win hame.

21

Then out it spake a valiant knight,
Johny's best friend was he;
I can commaun five hunder men,
An I'll his surety be.

22

The firstin town that they came till,
They gard the bells be rung;
An the nextin town that they came till,
They gard the mess be sung.

23

The thirdin town that they came till,
They gard the drums beat roun;
The king but an his nobles a'
Was startld at the soun.

24

Whan they came to the king's palace
They rade it roun about,
An there they saw the king himsel,
At the window looking out.

25

‘Is this the Duke o Albany,
Or James, the Scottish king?
Or are ye some great foreign lord,
That's come a visiting?’

26

‘I'm nae the Duke of Albany,
Nor James, the Scottish king;
But I'm a valiant Scottish knight,
Pitnachton is my name.’

27

‘O if Pitnachton be your name,
As I trust well it be,
The morn, or I tast meat or drink,
You shall be hanged hi.’

28

Then out it spake the valiant knight
That came brave Johney wi;
Behold five hunder bowmen bold,
Will die to set him free.

29

Then out it spake the king again,
An a scornfu laugh laugh he;
I have an Italian i my house
Will fight you three by three.

30

‘O grant me a boon,’ brave Johney cried;
‘Bring your Italian here;
Then if he fall beneath my sword,
I've won your daughter dear.’

31

Then out it came that Italian,
An a gurious ghost was he;
Upo the point o Johney's sword
This Italian did die.

32

Out has he drawn his lang, lang bran,
Struck it across the plain:
‘Is there any more o your English dogs
That you want to be slain?’

33

‘A clark, a clark,’ the king then cried,
‘To write her tocher free;’
‘A priest, a priest,’ says Love Johney,
‘To marry my love and me.

34

‘I'm seeking nane o your gold,’ he says,
‘Nor of your silver clear;
I only seek your daughter fair,
Whose love has cost her dear.’

381

McNaughtan

JOHNIE SCOT—B

[_]

Glenriddell MSS, XI, 78: 1791.

1

Johnny's into England gane,
Three quarters of a year;
Johnny's into England gane,
The king's banner to bear.

2

He had na been in England lang,
But and a little while,
Untill the king's daughter
To Johnny gaes wi child.

3

Word is to the kitchin gane,
And word is to the ha,
And word is to the king's palace,
Amang the nobles a'.

4

Word's gane to the king's palace,
The palace where she sat,
That his ae daughter gaes wi child
To Jock, the Little Scot.

5

‘If she be wi child,’ he says,
‘As I trow well she be,
I'll put her into strang prison,
And hang her till she die.’

6

But up and spak young Johnny,
And O he spake in time:
Is there never a bony boy here
Will rin my errand soon?

7

That will gae to yon castle,
And look it round about?
And there he'll see a fair lady,
The window looking out.

8

Up then spak a bony boy,
And a bony boy was he:
I'll run thy errand, Johnny, he said,
Untill the day I die.

9

‘Put on your gown o silk, madam,
And on your hand a glove,
And gang into the good green-wood,
To Johnny, your true-love.’

10

‘The fetters they are on my feet,
And O but they are cauld!
My bracelets they are sturdy steel,
Instead of beaten gold.

11

‘But I will write a lang letter,
And seal it tenderlie,
And I will send to my true-love,
Before that I do die.’

12

The first look that Johnny lookd,
A loud laughter gae he;
But the next look that Johnny gae,
The tear blinded his ee.

13

He says, I'll into England gae,
Whatever may betide,
And a' to seek a fair woman
That sud hae been my bride.

14

But up and speaks his father,
And O he spak in time:
If that ye into England gae,
I'm feerd ye neer come hame.

15

But up then speaks our gude Scotch king,
And a brisk young man was he:
He's hae five hunder o my life-guard,
To bear him companie.

16

When Johnny was on saddle set,
And seemly for to see,
There was not a married man
Into his companie.

17

When Johnny sat on saddle-seat,
And seemly to behold,
The hair that hang on Johnny's head
Was like the threads o gold.

18

When he cam to [OMITTED]
He gard the bells a' ring,
Untill the king and a' his court
Did marvel at the thing.

19

‘Is this the brave Argyle,’ he said,
‘That's landed and come hame?
Is this the brave Argyle,’ he said,
‘Or James, our Scottish king?’

20

‘It's no the brave Argyle,’ they said,
‘That's landed and come hame;
But it is a brave young Scottish knight,
McNaughtan is his name.’

21

‘If McNaughtan be his name,’ he says,
‘As I trow weel it be,

382

The fairest lady in a' my court
Gangs wi child to thee.’

22

‘If that she be wi child,’ he says,
‘As I wat weel she be,
I'll mak it lord o a' my land,
And her my gay lady.’

23

‘I have a champion in my court
Will fight you a' by three;’
But up then speaks a brisk young man,
And a brisk young man was he:
I will fight to my life's end,
Before poor Johnny die.

24

The king but and his nobles a'
Went out into the plain,
The queen but and her maidens a',
To see young Johnny slain.

25

The first wound that Johnny gae the champion
Was a deep wound and sair;
The next wound that he gae the champion,
He never spak mair.

26

‘A priest, a priest,’ young Johnny cries,
‘To wed me and my love;’
‘A clerk, a clerk,’ the king he cries,
‘To sign her tocher gude.’

27

‘I'll hae nane o your goud,’ he says,
‘I'll hae nane o your gear,
But a' I want is my true-love,
For I hae bought her dear.’

28

He took out a little goat-horn,
And blew baith loud and shill;
The victry's into Scotland gane,
Tho sair against their will.

Johnie Scot

JOHNIE SCOT—C

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 213: from the recitation of Mrs Thomson, Kilbarchan.

1

O Johnie's to the hunting gone,
Unto the woods sae wild,
And Earl Percy's old daughter
To Johnie goes with child.

2

O word is to the kitchen gone,
And word is to the ha,
And word is to the highest towers,
Amang the nobles a'.

3

‘If she be with child,’ her father said,
‘As woe forbid it be,
I'll put her into a prison strong,
And try the veritie.’

4

‘But if she be with child,’ her mother said,
‘As woe forbid it be,
I'll put her intil a dungeon dark,
And hunger her till she die.’

5

Then she has wrote a braid letter,
And sealed it wi her hand,
And sent it to the merry green wood,
Wi her own boy at command.

6

The first line of the letter he read,
His heart was full of joy;
But he had not read a line past two
Till the salt tears blind his eye.

7

‘O I must up to England go,
What ever me betide,
For to relieve that fair ladie
That lay last by my side.’

8

Out and spak his father then,
And he spak all in time:
Johnie, if ye to England go,
I fear ye'll neer return.

9

But out and spak his uncle then,
And he spak bitterlie:
Five hundred of my good life-guards
Shall go along with thee.

10

When they were mounted on their steeds,
They were comely to behold;
The hair that hung owre Johnie's shoulders
Was like the yellow gold.

11

The first town that they came to,
They made the bells to ring;
And when they rode the town all owre,
They made the trumpets sound.

383

12

When they came to Earl Percy's gates,
They rode them round about,
And who saw he but his own true-love,
At a window looking out!

13

‘The doors they are bolted with iron and steel,
The windows round about;
My feet they are in fetters strong;
And how can I get out?

14

‘My garters they are of the lead,
And oh but they be cold!
My breast-plate's of the beaten steel,
Instead of beaten gold.’

15

But when they came to Earl Percy's yett,
They tirled at the pin;
None was so ready as Earl Percy
To open and let them in.

16

‘Art thou the King of Aulsberry,
Or art thou the King of Spain?
Or art thou one of our gay Scots lords,
McNachtan by thy name?’

17

‘I'm not the King of Aulsberry,
Nor yet the King of Spain;
But I am one of our gay Scots lords,
Johnie Scot I am called by name.’

18

‘If Johnie Scot be thy name,’ he said,
‘As I trow weel it be,
The fairest lady in a' our court
Gaes big with child to thee.’

19

‘If she be with child,’ fair Johnie said,
‘As I trow weel she be,
I'll make it heir owre a' my land,
And her my gay ladie.’

20

‘But if she be with child,’ her father said,
‘As I trow weel she be,
Tomorrow morn again eight o clock
High hanged thou shalt be.’

21

But out and spak his uncle then,
And he spak bitterlie:
Before that we see Johnie Scot slain,
We'll a' fight till we die.

22

‘But is there ever a Tailliant about your court,
That will fight duels three?
Before that I be hanged or slain,
On the Tailliant's sword I'll die.’

23

But some is to the good green wood,
And some is to the plain,
Either to see fair Johnie hanged,
Or else to see him slain.

24

And they began at eight o clock of the morning,
And they fought on till three,
Till the Tailliant, like a swallow swift,
Owre Johnie's head did flee.

25

But Johnie being a clever young boy,
He wheeled him round about,
And on the point of Johnie's broad sword
The Tailliant he slew out.

26

‘A priest, a priest,’ fair Johnie cried,
‘To wed my love and me;’
‘A clerk, a clerk,’ her father cried,
‘To sum the tocher free.’

27

‘I'll have none of your gold,’ fair Johnie said,
‘Nor none of your white monie;
But I will have my own fair bride,
For I vow that I've bought her dear.’

28

He's taen his true-love by the hand,
He led her up the plain:
‘Have you any more of your English dogs
You want for to have slain?’

29

He took a little horn out of his pocket,
He blew it baith loud and shill,
And honour's into Scotland gone,
In spite of England's skill.

384

Johnnie Scot

JOHNIE SCOT—D

[_]

Motherwell MS., p. 205: a, “words and tune from Mrs McNiccol,” of Paisley, native of the parish of Houston; b, variations from “John Lindsay, cowfeeder, Wallace Street, Paisley.”

1

O Johnnie Scot walks up and down
Among the woods sae wild;
Who but the Earl of Percy's ae daughter
To him goes big with child!

2

O word is to the kitchen gone,
And word's gone to the hall,
And word is to King Henry gane,
And amongst his nobles all.

3

O Johnnie's called his waiting-man,
His name was Germanie:
‘O thou must to fair England go,
Bring me that fair ladie.’

4

He rode till he came to Earl Percy's gate,
He tirled at the pin;
‘O who is there?’ said the proud porter,
‘But I daurna let thee in.’

5

So he rade up, and he rode down,
Till he rode it round about;
Then he saw her at a wee window,
Where she was looking out.

6

‘O thou must go to Johnnie Scot,
Unto the woods so green,
In token of thy silken shirt,
Thine own hand sewed the seam.’

7

‘How can I go to Johnnie Scot?
Or how can I get out?
My breast plate's o the hard, hard iron,
With fetters round about.

8

‘But I will write a lang letter,
And give it unto thee,
And thou must take that to Johnnie Scot,
See what answer he sends to me.’

9

When Johnnie looked the letter upon
A sorry man was he;
He had not read one line but two
Till the saut tear did blind his ee.

10

‘O I must to fair England go,
Whatever me betide,
All for to fight for that gay ladie
That last lay by my side.’

11

O out and spoke his father then,
And he spoke well in time:
O if you to fair England go,
I doubt your coming home.

12

‘O no, O no,’ said good King James,
‘Before such a thing shall be,
I'll send five hundred of my life-guards,
To bear Johnnie company.’

13

When they were all on saddle set,
Most pleasant to behold,
The hair that hung over Johnnie's neck
Was like the links of gold.

14

When they were all marching away,
Most beautiful to see,
There was not so much as a married man
In Johnnie's company.

15

O Johnnie was the foremost man
In the company that did ride;
King James he was the second man,
Wi his rapier by his side.

16

They rode till they came to Earl Percy's yate,
They tirled at the pin:
‘O who is there?’ said the proud porter;
‘But I daurnot let thee in.

17

‘Is it the Duke of York,’ he said,
‘Or James, our Scotish king?
Or is it one of the Scotish lords,
From hunting new come home?’

18

‘It's not the Duke of York,’ he said,
‘Nor James, our Scotish king;
But it is one of the Scotish lords,
Earl Hector is my name.’

19

When Johnnie came before the king,
He fell low down on his knee:
‘O the brawest lady in a' my court
With child goes big to thee.’

20

‘O if she be with child,’ Johnnie said,
‘As I trew well she be,
I will make it heir of all my land,
And her my gay ladie.’

21

‘But if she be with child,’ said the king,
‘As I trew well she be,
Before the morn at ten o clock
High hanged thou shalt be.’

385

22

‘O no, O no,’ said good King James,
‘Before such a thing shall be,
Before that Johnnie Scot be hanged,
We'll a' fight till we die.’

23

‘But there is a Talliant in my court,
Of men he will fight five;
Go bring them out to the green wood,
See wha will gain the prize.’

24

Lords and ladies flocked all,
They flocked all amain,
They flocked all to the green wood,
To see poor Johnnie slain.

25

This Talliant he could find no way
To be poor Johnnie's dead,
But, like unto a swallow swift,
He jumped oer Johnnie's head.

26

But Johnnie was a clever man,
Cunning and crafty withal,
And up on the top of his braid sword
He made this Talliant fall.

27

‘A priest, a priest,’ then Johnnie cried,
‘To marry my love and me;’
‘A clerk, a clerk,’ her father cried,
‘To sum the tocher free.’

28

‘I'll take none of your gold,’ Johnnie said,
‘Nor none of your other gear,
But I'll just have my own true-love,
This day I've won her dear.’

McNachton

JOHNIE SCOT—E

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 113; from the recitation of T. Risk.

1

McNaughton's unto England gane,
The king's banner to bear:
‘O do you see yon castle, boy?
It's walled round about;
There you will spy a fair ladye,
In the window looking out.’

2

‘Here is a silken sark, fair lady,
Thine own hand sewed the sleeve,
And thou must go to yon green wood,
To Johnnie thy true-love.’

3

‘The castle it is high, my boy,
And walled round about;
My feet are in the fetters strong,
And how can I get out?

4

‘My garters o the gude black iron,
And they are very cold;
My breast plate's of the sturdy steel,
Instead of beaten gold.

5

‘But had I paper, pen and ink,
And candle at my command,
It's I would write a lang letter
To John in fair Scotland.’

6

The first line that Johnnie looked on,
A loud, loud lauch leuch he;
The second line that Johnnie looked on,
The tear did blind his ee.

7

Says, I must unto England go,
Whatever me betide,
For to relieve my own fair lady,
That lay last by my side.

8

Then up and spoke Johnnie's auld mither,
A well spoke woman was she:
If you do go to England, Johnnie,
I may take farewell o thee.

9

Then up and spoke Johnnie's old father,
A well spoke man was he:
It's twenty-four of my gay troop
Shall go along with thee.

10

When Johnie was on saddle set,
Right comely to be seen,
There was not so much as a married man
In Johnie's companie;
There was not so much as a married man,
Not a one only but ane.

11

The first gude toun that Johnie came to,
He made the bells be rung;
The next gude toun that Johnie came to,
He made the psalms be sung.

12

The next gude toun that Johnie came to,
He made the drums beat round,

386

Till the king and all his merry men
A-marvelled at the sound.

13

‘Are you the Duke of Mulberry,
Or James, our Scotish king?
Are you the Duke of Mulberry,
From Scotland new come home?’

14

‘I'm not the Duke of Mulberry,
Nor James, our Scotish king;
But I am a true Scotishman,
McNaughtoun is my name.’

15

‘If McNaughtoun be your name,’ he said,
‘As I trew well it be,
The fairest lady in a' my court
She goes with child to thee.

16

‘If McNauchton be your name,’ he said,
‘As I trew well it be,
Tomorrow morn by eight o clock
O hanged you shall be.’

17

O Johnie had a bonnie little boy,
His name was Germany:
‘Before that we be all hanged, my sovereign,
We'll fight you till we die.’

18

‘Say on, say on, my bonnie little boy,
It is well spoken of thee,
For there is a campioun in my court
Shall fight you three by three.’

19

Next morning about eight o'clock
The king and his merry men,
The queen and all her maidens fair,
Came whistling down the green,
To see the cruel fight begin,
And see poor Johnnie slain.

20

They fought on, and Johnie fought on,
Wi swords of tempered steel,
Until the drops of red, red blood
Ran prinkling down the field.

21

They fought on, and Johnie fought on,
They fought so manfullie
They left not a man alive in all the king's court,
Not a man only but three.

22

‘A priest, a priest,’ poor Johnie cries,
‘To wed my love and me;’
‘A clerk, a clerk,’ the king did cry,
‘To write her portion free.’

23

‘I'll have none of your gold,’ he says,
‘Nor none of your white money,
But I will have mine own fair lady,
Who has been dear to me.’

24

Johnie put a horn unto his mouth,
He blew it wondrous schill;
The sound is unto Scotland gane,
Sair against all their will.

25

He put his horn to his mouth,
He blew it ower again,
And aye the sound the horn cried,
‘McNaughtoun's cure to them!’

Bonnie Johnie Scot

JOHNIE SCOT—F

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 211; from the recitation of Agnes Laird, Kilbarchan, 21 June, 1825.

1

Word has to the kitchen gane,
And word has to the ha,
And word has to the king himsell,
In the chamber where he sat,
That his ae daughter gaes wi bairn
To bonnie Johnie Scot.

2

Word has to the kitchen gane,
And word has to the ha,
And word has to the queen hersell,
In the chamber where she sat,
That her ae dochter gaes wi bairn
To bonnie Johnie Scot.

3

‘O if she be wi bairn,’ he says,
‘As I trew well she be,
We'll put her in a prison strang,
And try her verity.’

4

‘O if she be wi bairn,’ she says,
‘As I trew weel she be,
We'll put her in a dungeon dark,
And hunger her till she die.’

5

Now she has written a letter,
And sealed it with her hand,

387

And sent it unto Johnie Scot,
To come at her command.

6

The first lang line that he looked to,
He laughed at the same;
The neist lang line that he did read,
The tears did blin his een.

7

‘Once more to England I must go,
May God be my sure guide!
And all to see that lady fair
That last lay by my side.’

8

Then out bespoke our Scotish king,
And he spoke manfullie:
I and three thousand of my guards
Will bear you companye.

9

They all were mounted on horseback,
So gallantly they rode;
The hair that hung owre Johnie's shoulders
Was like the links of goud.

10

When they came to the king of England's gate,
They knocked at the pin;
So ready was the king himsell
To open and let them in.

11

‘Are you the Duke [of York],’ he says,
‘Or are ye the King of Spain?
Or are ye some of the gay Scots boys,
From hunting now come hame?’

12

‘I am not the Duke of York,’ he says,
‘Nor yet the King of Spain;
But I am one of the gay Scots boys,
From hunting just come hame.’

13

‘If you are one of the Scots boys,
As I trew weel you be,
The fairest lady in my hall
Gaes big wi child to thee.’

14

‘Then if she be wi bairn,’ he says,
‘As I trew weel she be,
I'll make him heir of a' my gear,
And her my fair ladye.’

15

‘If she be wi bairn,’ her father says,
‘As I trew weel she be,
Before the morn at ten o'clock
High hanged thou shall be.’

16

Then out bespake our Scotish king,
And he spoke manfullie:
Before that Johnie Scott be slain,
We'll all fight till we die.

17

‘I have a Talliant in my house
We'll fight your men by three;’
‘Bring out your trooper,’ Johnie says,
‘For fain I would him see.’

18

Some gade unto the high mountain,
Some gade unto the plain,
Some at high windows looked out,
To see poor Johnie slain.

19

The Talliant he fought on a while,
Thinking Johnie would retire,
And then he, like a swallow swifte,
Owre Johnie's head did flee.

20

But Johnie was a clever man,
And turned about with speed,
And on the edge of his broadsword
He slew the Talliant dead.

21

Then he has brought the lady out,
And sat her on a dapple-gray,
And being mounted on before,
They briskly rode away.

22

Now the honour unto Scotland came,
In spite of England's skill;
The honour unto Scotland came
In spite of England's will.

Johnie Scott

JOHNIE SCOT—G

[_]

Motherwell's Note-Book, p. 35, Motherwell MS., p. 394; from the singing of Agnes Lyle, of Kilbarchan, 24 August, 1825.

1

Johnie Scott's a hunting gone,
To England woods so wild,
Until the king's old dochter dear
She goes to him with child.

2

‘If she be with bairn,’ her mother says,
‘As I trew weel she be,
We'll put her in a dark dungeon,
And hunger her till she die.’

388

3

‘If she be with bairn,’ her father says,
‘As oh forbid she be!
We'll put her in a prison strong,
And try the veritie.’

4

The king did write a long letter,
Sealed it with his own hand,
And he sent it to Johnie Scot,
To speak at his command.

5

When Johnie read this letter long,
The tear blindit his ee:
‘I must away to Old England;
King Edward writes for me.’

6

Out and spak his mother dear,
She spoke aye in time:
Son, if thou go to Old England,
I fear thou'll neer come hame.

7

Out and spoke a Scotish prince,
And a weel spoke man was he:
Here's four and twenty o my braw troops,
To bear thee companie.

8

Away they gade, awa they rade,
Away they rade so slie;
There was not a maried man that day
In Johnie's companie.

9

The first good town that they passed thro,
They made their bells to ring;
The next good town that they passed thro,
They made their music sing.

10

The next gude town that they passed thro,
They made their drums beat round,
The king and a' his gay armies
Admiring at the sound.

11

When they came to the king's court,
They travelled round about,
And there he spied his own true-love,
At a window looking out.

12

‘O fain wald I come down,’ she says,
‘Of that ye needna dout;
But my garters they're of cauld, cauld iron,
And I can no win out.

13

‘My garters they're of cauld, cauld iron,
And it is very cold;
My breast-plate is of sturdy steel,
Instead o beaten gold.’

14

Out and spoke the king himsell,
And an angry man was he:
The fairest lady in a' my court,
She goes with child to thee.

15

‘If your old doughter be with child,
As I trew weel she be,
I'll make it heir of a' my land,
And her my gay lady.’

16

‘There is a Talliant in my court,
This day he's killed three;
And gin the morn by ten o'clock
He'll kill thy men and thee.’

17

Johnie took sword into his hand,
And walked cross the plain;
There was many a weeping lady there,
To see young Johnie slain.

18

The Talliant never knowing this,
Now he'll be Johnie's dead,
But, like unto a swallow swift,
He flew out owre his head.

19

Johnie was a valliant man,
Weel taught in war was he,
And on the point of his broad sword
The Talliant stickit he.

20

Johnie took sword into his hand,
And walked cross the plain:
‘Are there here any moe of your English dogs
That's wanting to be slain?

21

‘A priest, a priest,’ young Johnie cries,
‘To wed my bride and me;’
‘A clerk, a clerk,’ her father cries,
‘To tell her tocher wi.’

22

‘I'm wanting none of your gold,’ he says,
‘As little of your gear;
But give me just mine own true-love,
I think I've won her dear.’

23

Johnie sets horn into his mouth,
And he blew loud and schrill;
The honour it's to Scotland come,
Sore against England's will.

389

Love Johny

JOHNIE SCOT—H

[_]

Kinloch MSS, VI, 53, in an unknown hand.

1

Where will I gett a bony boy,
That would fain win hose and shoon,
That will go on to yon palace,
And haste him back again?’

2

‘Here am I, a bony boy,
That would fain win hose and shoon,
That will go on to yon palace,
And haste me back again.’

3

‘When you come to yon palace,
You'l run it round about;
There you'l see a gay lady,
At the window looking out.

4

‘Give hir this shirt of silk,
Hir own hand sewed the slive,
And bid her come to good green woods,
Spear no hir parents' leave.

5

‘Give hir this shirt of silk, boy,
Hir own hand sewed the gare;
You'l bid her come to good green woods,
Love Johny, I'll meet hir there.’

6

When he came to yon palace,
He ran it round about,
And there he saw a gay lady,
At the window looking out.

7

‘Take here this shirt of silk, lady,
Your own hand sewed the slive;
You're biden come to good green woods,
Spire no your parents' leave.

8

‘Take here this shirt of silk, lady,
Your own hand sewed the gare;
You're biden come to good green woods,
Love Johny'll meet you there.’

9

‘The staunchens they are strong, boy,
Dear, vow but they are stout!
My feet they are in strong fetters,
And how shall I win out?

10

‘My garters is of the cold iron,
Dear, vow but they are cold!
And three splits of the sturdy steel,
Instead of beaten goold.

11

‘But I will write a braud leter,
And sign it with my hand,
And I will send it to Love Johny,
Weel may he understand.’

12

And she has wrote [a] braud leter,
And signd it with hir hand,
And sent it on to Love Jony,
Weel did he understand.

13

When he got this letter,
A light laugh did he gie;
But or he read it half down through,
The salt tears blinded's ee.

14

Says, I'll awa to fair England,
What ever may betide,
And all is for the fair lady
That lay close by my side.

15

Out it spoke Jony's mother,
And she spoke ay through pride;
Says, If ye go to fair England,
Sir, better to you bide.

16

When Jony was on his sadle set,
And seemly to behold,
Every tet o Love Jony's hair
Was like the threads of goold.

17

When Jony was on his sadle set,
And seemly for to see,
There was not a maried man
In a' Jony's company.

18

The first town that they came till,
They gard the bells be rung;
The next town that they came till,
They gard the mess bee sung.

19

When they came to the king's palace,
The drums they did beat round,
And the quien and her marys all
Amased at the sound.

20

‘Is this the Duke of Mulberry,
Or James, our Scottish king?
Or is it any noble lord
That's going a visiting?’

21

‘It's not the Duke of Mulberry,
Nor James, our Scottish king;

390

But it is Jack, the Little Scot,
And Auchney is his name.’

22

‘If Auchney bee your name,’ he said,
‘As I trust weel it be,
The fairest lady in all my court
She goes with bairn to the.’

23

‘If she be with bairn,’ he said,
‘As I doubt not nor she be,
I will make it heir oer all my land,
And hir my gay lady.’

24

The king he swore a solemn oath,
And a solemn oath swore he,
‘The morn, before I eat or drink,
High hanged he shall be!’
[OMITTED]

25

The king and his nobles all
Went out into the plain,
And the quen and hir marys all,
To see Love Johny slain.

26

They fought up, and they fought down,
With swords of temperd steel,
But not a drop of Johny's blood
In that day he did spill.

27

Out they brought the Itilian,
And a greecy ghost was he,
But by the edge o Love Johny's sword
That Itilian did die.

28

Johny's taen his neat drawn sword,
And stript it to the stran:
‘Is there any more of your English dogs
That wants for to be slain?’

29

‘A clerck, a clerck,’ now says the king,
‘To sign her tocher free;’
‘A priest, a priest,’ said Love Johny,
‘To mary my dear and me.

30

‘I fought not for your goold, your goold,
I fought not for your gear,
But I fought for my rose Mary,
And vow! I've bought hir dear.’

Johnie Buneftan

JOHNIE SCOT—I

[_]

Kinloch MSS, VII, 39, 41, 43, 45, 47, 49.

1

Johnie is up to London gane,
Three quarters o the year,
And he is up to London gane,
The king's banner for to bear.

2

He had na been in fair London
A twalmonth and a day,
Till the king's ae daughter
To Johnie gangs wi child.

3

O word is to the kitchen gane,
And word is to the ha,
And word is to the king himsel
Amang his nobles a'.
[OMITTED]

4

She has wrote a braid letter,
She has wrote it tenderly,
And she's wrote a braid letter,
To lat her Johnie see

5

That her bower is very high,
It's aw weel walled about;
Her feet are in the fetters strang,
Her body looking out.

6

Her garters are of cauld iron,
And they are very cold;
Her breist-plate is o the sturdy steel,
Instead o the beaten gold.

7

Whan he lookit the letter on,
A licht lauch gaed he;
But eer he read it til an end,
The tear blindit his ee.

8

‘I maun up to London gang,
Whatever me betide,
And louse that lady out o prison strang;
She lay last by my side.’

9

Up spak Johnie's ae best man,
That stood by Johnie's knie:
Ye'll get twenty four o my best men,
To bear ye companie.

391

10

When Johnie was in his saddle set,
A pleasant sicht to see,
There was na ae married man
In Johnie's companie.

11

The first toun that he cam till,
He made the mass be sung;
The niest toun that he cam till,
He made the bells be rung.

12

When he cam to fair London,
He made the drums gae round;
The king and his nobles aw
They marvelld at the sound.

13

‘Is this the Duke of Winesberry,
Or James, the Scotish king?
Or is it a young gentleman,
That wants for to be in?’

14

‘It's na the Duke of Winesberry,
Nor James, the Scotish king;
But it is a young gentleman,
Buneftan is his name.’

15

Up spak the king himsel,
An angry man was he:
The morn eer I eat or drink
Hie hangit sall he be.

16

Up spak Johnie's ae best man,
That stood by Johnie's knie:
Afore our master he be slain
We'll aw fecht till we die.

17

Up spak the king himsel,
And up spak he:
I have an Italian in my court
That will fecht ye manifullie.

18

‘If ye hae an Italian in your court,
Fu fain wad I him see;
If ye hae an Italian in your court,
Ye may bring him here to me.’

19

The king and his nobles aw
Went tripping doun the plain,
Wi the queen and her maries aw,
To see fair Johnie slain.

20

Even anent the prison-door
The battle did begin;
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

21

They foucht up, and they foucht doun,
Wi swerds o tempered steel,
Til Johnie wi his gude braidswerd
Made the Italian for to yield.

22

He has kickd him with his foot,
And he has kickd him oure the plain:
‘Onie mair Italians in your court
Ye want for to be slain?’

23

‘A clerk, a clerk,’ the king cried,
‘To sign her tocher-fee;’
‘A priest, a priest,’ young Johnie said,
‘To marry her and me.

24

‘For I want nane o your gowd,
Nor nane o your weel won fee;
I only want your fair dochter,
I have won her mannfullie.’

JOHNIE SCOT—J

[_]

Kinloch MSS, VII, 40, 42, 46, 49.

1

O word is to the queen hersel,
In parlour whare she sat,
That the king's dochter goes wi child
To Jock, that little Scot.

2

O word is to the king himsel,
And an angry man was he;
Says, I will put her in cold prison,
And hunger her till she dee.

3

The ladie was laid in cold prison,
By the king, a grievous man;
And up and starts a little boy,
Upon her window-stane.

4

Says, Here's a silken shift, ladye,
Your ane hand sewed the sleeve,
And ye maun gang to yon greenwud,
And of your freends speir na leave.

5

‘My bouer is very hie,’ said the lady,
‘And it's wondrous hie round about;

392

My feet are lockit in the iron fetters,
And how can I get out?

6

‘But I will write a braid letter,
And seal it tenderlie,
And send it to yon greenwud,
And let young Johnie see.’

7

O Johnie's to his father gane,
And til him did say,
O I maun up to London, father,
And fecht for that lady gay.

8

His father spak but ae word,
Says, I speak it in time;
For an ye gang to London, Johnie,
I fear your coming hame.

9

And out and spak anither youth,
And a pretty youth was he:
Afore I see young Johnie dung
I'll fecht for him till I dee.
[OMITTED]

10

He has wallowd it, he has wallowd it,
He's wallowd it again;
Cries, Onie mae o your English dogs
That wants for to be slain?

11

He set the horn until his mouth,
And he has blawn baith loud and shill;
The victor's doun to Scotland gane,
Richt sair against their will.

Johnie, the Little Scot

JOHNIE SCOT—K

[_]

Kinloch MSS, I, 311.

1

Johnie's up to England gane,
Three quarters o a year;
Johnie's up to England gane,
The king's banner to bear.

2

He had not in fair England been
A month't was barely ane,
When the fairest lady o the court
To Johnie wi child is gane.

3

Word is to the kitchen gane,
And word's gane to the ha;
Word's gane to the high, high rooms,
Among the nobles a'.

4

And word o't to the king is gane,
In the chamber where he sat,
His only daughter goes wi child
To Johnie, the Little Scot.

5

‘O if she be wi child,’ he says,
‘As I trow weel she be,
I'll lock her up in strong prison,
And punish her till she dee.’

6

Then she has wrote a long letter,
And seald it without a blot,
And she has sent it to fair Scotland,
To Johnie, the Little Scot.

7

The first line that he did read,
In laughter loud was he;
But or he gat the hindmost read
The tear blindit his ee.

8

‘Get ready for me the black, black steed,
Get ready for me the brown,
And saddle to me the swiftest horse
Eer carried man to town.’

9

Whan he cam to Edinburgh town,
He made the bells to ring,
And when he cam to merry Carlisle,
He made the monks to sing.

10

When he cam to the king's gates,
He made his drums beat round;
The king bot and his nobles a'
They wonderd at the sound.

11

‘Is this [the] King of France,’ he cried,
‘Or is't the King of Spain?
Or is it Johnie, the Little Scot,
That's wanting to be slain?’

12

‘It's neither the King of France,’ he said,
‘Nor is't the King of Spain;
But it is Johnie, the Little Scot,
That's come to claim his ain.’
[OMITTED]

393

13

They foucht it ance, they foucht it twice,
They foucht it oure again,
Till draps o blood, like draps o rain,
War rinning to the plain.

14

Then Johnie drew a nut-brown brand,
And strook it oure the plain,
Saying, Are there onie mae o your Englishmen
That's wanting to be slain?

15

‘A clerk, a clerk,’ the king he cried,
‘To sign her tocher-fee;’
‘A priest, a priest,’ then Johnie cried,
‘To marry my love and me.

16

‘I'll hae nane o your gowd,’ he says,
‘As little o your gear;
But I'll hae her, my ain true-love,
For I'm sure I've coft her dear.’

Johnnie Scott

JOHNIE SCOT—L

[_]

Campbell MSS, I, 57.

1

Johnnie Scott's a hunting gane,
To England's woods sae wild;
The fairest flower of all England
To Johnnie provd big with child.

2

It's word's going up, and word's going down,
Going to the king's bower,
That his dear daughter was with child,
That was his daily flower.

3

‘If she be with child,
As I suppose she be,
I'll put her into prison strong,
And hunger her till she die.’

4

The king he wrote a letter broad,
And sealed it with his hands,
And sent it down to Johnnie Scott,
In Scotland where he stands.

5

The first line that Johnnie lookd on,
A merry man was he;
The next line that he lookd on,
The salt tears blinded his eye.

6

Out then spoke his old father,
Who neer spoke out of time:
And if you go to England, son,
I doubt your coming home.

7

Out then spoke our Scottish James,
Sitting low by Johnnie's knee:
Fifteen score of my life-guards
Shall ride in your company.

8

When Johnnie came to the king's court
He rode it round about,
And there he spied his own true-love,
From the jail-window looking out.

9

‘Come down, true-love,’ said Johnnie Scott,
‘And now you'll ride behind me;
Before I leave fair England
Some life shall die for thee.’

10

‘My feet are in the fetters strong,
I'm belted round about;
My breastplate is of the stubborn steel,
Instead of beaten gold.’

11

When Johnnie came to the king's bower
He tinkled at the ring;
Who was so ready as the king himself
To let proud Johnnie in!

12

‘Are ye the Duke of Marlborough,’ he said,
‘Or James, our Scottish king?
Or are you my bastard son,
From Scotland new come home?’

13

‘I'm not the Duke of Marlborough,’ he said,
‘Nor James, our Scottish king;
But I am just a good Scotch lad,
And Johnnie Scott's my name.’

14

‘If you be Johnnie Scott,’ says he,
‘As I suppose you be,
The fairest flower in all England
Is big with child by thee.’

15

‘If she be big with child,’ said he,
‘As I hope her to be,
I'll make it heir of all my lands,
And she my gay lady.’

16

‘O no,’ then the king he crys,
‘There's no such thing will be;

394

There is an Italian in my court,
And by his hands ye'll die.’

17

‘I'll stand my ground,’ says Johnnie Scott,
‘I'll stand it till I die;
I'll stand my ground,’ says Johnnie Scott,
‘One foot I'd scorn to fly.’

18

When the Italian was brought out,
A fearsome sight was he;
Between his brows three women's spang,
His shoulders was yards three.

19

As Johnnie, being a crafty lad,
Well tried at the sword was he,
Upon the point of his broad sword
He made the Italian die.

Lord Johnnie Scott

JOHNIE SCOT—M

[_]

Campbell MSS, II, 335.

1

Lord Johnnie's up to England gane,
Three quarters of an year;
Lord Johnnie's up to England gone,
The king's banner to bear.

2

He had not been in fair England,
Three quarters he was not,
Till the king's eldest daughter
Goes with child to Lord Johnnie Scott.

3

Word has to the kitchen gone,
And word's gone to the hall,
And word's gone to the high, high room,
Among the nobles all.

4

And word has gaen to the king himsel,
In his chamber where he sat,
That his eldest daughter goes wi child
To good Lord Johnnie Scott.

5

‘Gin that be true,’ the king replied,
‘As I suppose it be,
I'll put her in a prison strong,
And starve her till she die.’
[OMITTED]

6

‘O where will I get a little page,
That will win baith hose and shoon,
And run into fair Scotland,
And tell my love to come?’
[OMITTED]

7

‘What news, what news, my little page?
What news hae ye brought to me?’
‘Bad news, bad news, my master dear,
The king's daughter maun die.

8

‘Here is a shirt, O master dear,
Her ain hand sewd the sleeve;
She bad me run and tell ye this,
And ask nae person's leave.

9

‘They have her in a prison strong,
And in a dungeon deep;
Her feet are in the fetters strong,
And they've left her to weep.

10

‘Her feet are in the cold, cold iron,
Instead of beaten gold;
Her garters are of the cauld, cauld iron,
And O but they are cold!’
[OMITTED]

11

‘A clerk, a clerk,’ the king did cry,
‘To cry the toucher-fee;’
‘A priest, a priest,’ Lord Johnnie cry'd,
‘To join my love and me.

12

‘I want none of your gold,’ he said,
‘Nor as little want I a fee;
But I do want your daughter dear,
My wedded wife to be.’

395

Lord John

JOHNIE SCOT—N

[_]

Buchan's Gleanings, p. 122.

1

Lord John he's on to England gone,
To England gone is he;
Love John he's on to England gone,
The king's banneret to be.

2

He hadna been in fair England
O but a little while,
Till faen in love wi the king's daughter,
And to him she's with chile.

3

Now word is to the kitchen gane,
And word is to the ha,
And word is to the king's high court,
And that was warst of a'.

4

Out then spake the king himsell,
An angry man was he:
I'll put her into prison strong,
And starve her till she die.

5

Love John he's on to Scotland gone,
I wat he's on wi speed;
Love John he's on to Scotland gone,
And as good was his need.

6

He hadna been in fair Scotland
But a very short tide,
Till he minded on the damsel
That lay last by his side.

7

‘Whare will I get a bonny boy,
Will win baith meat and fee,
That will run on to fair England,
And haste him back to me?’

8

‘O here am I, a bonny boy,
Will win baith meat and fee,
That will run on to fair England,
And haste him back to thee.’

9

‘Where ye find the grass grow green,
Ye'll slack your shoes and rin;
And when ye find the brigs broken,
Ye'll bend your bow and swim.

10

‘And when ye come to the king's high court,
Ye'll rin it round about,
And there ye'll see a lady gay,
At a window looking out.

11

‘Bid her take this shirt of silk,
Her ain hand sewed the sleeve;
Bid her come to good green-wood,
At her parents spier nae leave.

12

‘Bid her take this shirt of silk,
Her ain hand sewed the gair;
Bid her come to good green-wood,
Love John he waits her there.’

13

Where he found the grass grow green,
He slackd his shoes and ran;
Where he fan the brigs broken,
He bent his bow and swam.

14

When he came to the king's high court,
He ran it round about;
And there he saw the lady gay,
At the window looking out.

15

‘Ye're bidden take this shirt of silk,
Yere ain hand sewed the sleeve;
Ye're bidden come to good green-wood,
At your parents spier nae leave.

16

‘Ye're bidden take this shirt of silk,
Yere ain hand sewed the gair;
Ye're bidden come to good green-wood,
Love John he waits you there.’

17

‘My feet are in the fetters strong,
Instead of silken sheen;
My breast-plate's of the cold iron,
Instead of gold so fine.

18

‘But I will write a broad letter,
And seal it with my hand,
And send it off to my Love Johnny,
And let him understand.’

19

The first line that he looked on,
A loud laughter laught he;
But ere he read it to the end,
The tear blinded his ee.

20

‘O I will on to fair England,
Whatever me betide,
For to relieve the damsel
That lay last by my side.’

21

Out it spake his father dear,
A noble lord was he:

396

If ye gang to England, Johnny,
Ye'll neer come back to me.

22

Out it spake a noble lord,
A noble lord, I wat, was he:
Fifteen of our Scottish lords
Will bear his honour companie.

23

The first town that they eer came till,
They gart the bells be rung;
The next town that they came till,
They gart the mass be sung.

24

And when they came to the king's court,
They gart the trumpet soun,
Till the king and all his merry young men
Did marvel at the tune.

25

‘Is this the Duke of Marlborough,
Or James, the Scottish king?
Or is it else some Scottish lord,
Come here a visiting?’

26

‘It's not the Duke of Marlborough,
Nor James, the Scottish king:
It is Love John of fair Scotland,
Come here a visiting.’

27

‘If this be John of fair Scotland,
He's dearly welcome to me;
The morn ere he eat or drink,
High hanged he shall be.’

28

He's taen his broadsword in his hand,
And stripd it oer a stane;
Then thro and thro the king's high court
With broadsword now is gane.

29

They fought it up, they fought it down,
Till they were weary men,
When the blood, like drops of rain,
Came trickling down the plain.

30

Out it spake the king himsel,
Ane angry man was he:
I have ane Italian within my court
Will fight ye three and three.

31

Out it came that ae Italian,
As pale as death was he,
And on the point of Johnny's sword
That ae Italian did die.

32

‘A clerk, a clerk,’ the king he cried,
‘And seal her tocher wi;’
‘A priest, a priest,’ Lord John he cried,
‘That we may married be.

33

‘For I want neither gold,’ he said,
‘Nor do I want your gear;
But I do want my ain true-love,
For I have bought her dear.’

Johnie Scot

JOHNIE SCOT—O

[_]

Communicated by Mr William Macmath, of Edinburgh, from his aunt, Miss Jane Webster, formerly of Airds of Kells, now (December, 1882) of Dalry, Kirkcudbrightshire, who learned it from the late Miss Jane Hannay, Newton Stewart.

[OMITTED]

1

Out then spak his auld faither,
And a blythe auld man was he,
Saying, I'll send five hunner o my brisk young men,
To bear Johnie companie.

2

And when they were on saddle set,
They were a pleasant sight for to see,
For there was na ae married man
In a' Johnie's companie.

3

And when they were on saddle set,
They were a pleasant sight to behold,
For the hair that hung down Johnie's back
Was like the links of gold.

4

And when they came to Newcastle,
They reined their horses about;
Wha did he see but his ain Jeanie,
At a window looking out!

5

‘Come doun, come doun, Jeanie,’ he says,
‘Come doun, come doun to me;’
‘I canna come doun, Johnie,’ she says,
‘For King Edward has bolted me.

6

‘My stockings are o the heavy iron,
I feel them very cold;
And my breast-plate's o the sturdy steel,
Instead of beaten gold.’

397

[OMITTED]

7

[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
‘I'll make it heir o a' my lands,
And her my gay lady.’

8

‘There is an Italian in this court;
This day he has slain knights three;
And before tomorrow at eight o'clock
The Italian will slay thee.’

JOHNIE SCOT—P

[_]

Motherwell's Note-Book, p. 11.

1

Johnie's up to England gone,
Three quarters of a year;
Johnie's up to England gone,
The king's banner to bear.

2

He hadna been in fair England
A month but only three,
The king he had but one dochter,
And she fell in love with he.

3

And word is up, and word is down,
And word is to the ha,
And word is to the king's court gane,
Amang the nobles a'.

4

Now word is to the king himsell,
On throne where he did sit,
That his ae dochter goes wi child
To John that little Scot.

JOHNIE SCOT—Q

[_]

“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 4 a, Abbotsford; in the handwriting of William Laidlaw.

1

Young Johnie's up to England gane
Three quarters of a year;
Young Johnie's up to England gane,
The king's banner for to bear.

2

But he had not in England been
The one half of the time
Till the fairest laidy in all the court
Was going with child to him.

3

Word unto the kitchen's gane,
And word's to the hall,
And word unto the court has gane,
Among the nobles all.

4

And word unto the chamber's gane,
The place where the king sat,
That his only daughter is with child
To Johnie, the little Scott.

5

‘If this be true,’ then sais the king,
‘As I true well it be,
I'll put hir in a strong castle,
And hungre hir till she dee.’

6

Hir breast-plate was made of iron,
In place of the beaten gold,
A belt of steel about hir waist,
And O but she was cold!

7

‘O where will I get a pritty little boy,
That will win hoes and shoon,
That will go doun to yonder lee
And tell my Johnie to come?’

8

‘Here am I, a pritty little boy,
That will win hoes and shoon,
And I'll go doun to yonder lee
And tell young Johnie to come.’

9

She has wrote a brod letter,
And seald it tenderly,
And she has sent it to Johnie the Scott,
That-lay on yonder lee.

10

When Johnie first the letter got,
A blith, blith man was he;
But or he read the half of it
The salt teer blind Johnie's ee.

11

‘I will go to fair England,’ says he,
‘What ever may betide,
For to releave that gay laidy
Who last lay by my side.’

12

Up then spoke his old mother,
A sorrifull woman was she;
‘If you go to England, John,
I'll never see you mare.’

13

Up then spoke Johnie's father,
His head was growing gray;
‘If you go to England, John,
O fair you well for me!’

14

Up then spoke Johnie's uncle,
Our Scottish king was he;


‘Five hundred of my merry men
Shall bear you company.’

15

When Johnie was mounted on his steed
He looked wondorous bold,
The hair that oer his shouldiers hang
Like threeds of yellow gold.

16

‘Now come along with me, my men,
O come along with me,
We'l blow thier castles in the air,
And set free my gay laidy.’

17

The first gay town that they came to,
Made mass for to be sung;
The nixt gay town that they came to,
Made bells for to be rung.

18

But when they came to London town,
They made the drums beat round,
Who made the king and all his court
To wonder at the sound.

19

‘Is this the Duke of Mulberry,
Or James the Scottish king?
Or is it a young gentleman
To England new come home?’

20

‘It is not the Duke of Mulberry,
Nor James the Scottish [king];
But it is a young gentleman,
MacNaughten is his name.’

21

‘If MacNaughten be your name,’ says the king,
‘As I true well it be,
Before the morn at eight o clock
Dead hanged you shall be.’

22

Up bespoke one of Johnie's little boys,
And a well-spoke boy was he;
‘Before we see our master hangd,
We'l all fight till we dee.’

23

‘Well spoke, well spoke, my little boy,
That is well spoke of thee;
But I have a champian in my bower
That will fight you three by three.’

24

Up then spoke Johnie himself,
And he spoke manfully;
‘If it please your Majesty,
May I this champian see?’

25

The king and all his nobles then
Rode down unto the plain,
The queen and all [her] gay marries,
To see young Johnie slain.

26

When the champian came out of the bower,
He looked at Johnie with disdain;
But upon the tope of Johnie's brodsword
This champian soon was slain.

27

He fought on, and Johnie fought on,
With swords of tempered steel,
And ay the blood like dropes of rain
Came trinkling down thier hiel.

28

The very nixt stroke that Johnie gave,
He brought him till his knee;
The nixt stroke that Johnie gave,
He clove his head in twa.

29

He swapt his sword on every side,
And turned him on the plain:
‘Have you any more of your English dogs
That wants for to be slain?’

30

‘A clerk, a clerk!’ the king he crys,
‘I'll seal her taucher free;’
‘A priest, a priest!’ the queen she crys,
‘For weded they shall be.’

31

‘I'll have none of your [gold],’ say[s] he,
‘Nor any of your white money;
But I will have my ain true-love;
This day she has cost me dear.’

JOHNIE SCOT—R

[_]

“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 37, Abbotsford, MS. of Thomas Wilkie, p. 11; from Miss Nancy Brockie, Bemerside. Another copy, “Scotch Ballads,” etc., No 139, in the handwriting of T. Wilkie, and somewhat retouched by him.

1

Lord Jonnie's up to England gone
Three quarters of an year;
Lord Jonnie's up to England gone,
The king's banner to bear.

2

He had not been in fair England,
Three quarters he was not,


Till the king's eldest daughter
Goes with child to Lord Jonnie Scott.

3

Word is to the kitchen gone,
And word's gone to the hall,
And word's gone to the high, high room,
Among the nobles all.

4

Word's gone to the king himsel,
In the chamber where he sat,
That his eldest daughter goes with child
To Lord Jonnie Scott.

5

‘If that be true,’ the king replied,
‘As I suppose it be,
I'll put her in a prison strong,
And starve her till she die.’

6

‘O where will I get a little boy,
That has baith hose and shoon,
That will run into fair Scotland,
And tell my love to come?’

7

‘O here is a shirt, little boy,
Her own hand sewed the sleeve;
Tell her to come to good greenwood,
Not ask her father's leave.’

8

‘What news, what news, my little boy?
What news have ye brought to me?’
‘No news, no news, my master dear,
But what I will tell thee.

9

‘O here is a shirt, madam,
Your awn hand sewed the sleeve;
You must gang to good greenwood,
Not ask your parents' leave.’

10

‘My doors they are all shut, little boy,
My windows round about;
My feet is in the fetters strong,
And I cannot get out.

11

‘My garters are of the black, black iron,
And O but they are cold!
My breast-plate's o the strong, strong steel,
Instead of beaten gold.

12

‘But tell him for to bide away,
And not come near to me,
For there's a champion in my father's ha
Will fight him till he dee.’

13

‘What news, what news, my little boy?
What news have ye to me?’
‘No news, no news, my master dear,
But what I will tell thee.

14

‘Her doors they are all shut, kind sir,
Her windows round about;
Her feet are in the fetters strong,
And she cannot get out.

15

‘Her garters are of the black, black iron,
And O but they are cold!
Her breast-plate's of the strong, strong steel,
Instead of beaten gold.

16

‘She bids you for to bide away,
And not go near to see,
For there's a champion in her father's house
Will fight you till you die.’

17

Then up and spoke Lord Jonnie's mother,
But she spoke out of time;
‘O if you go to fair England
I fear you will be slain.’

18

But up and spoke a little boy,
Just at Lord Jonnie's knee,
‘Before you lose your ain true-love,
We'll a' fight till we die.’

19

The first church-town that they came to,
They made the bells be rung;
The next church-town that they came to,
The[y] gard the mass be sung.

20

The next church-town that they came to,
They made the drums go through;
The king and all his nobles stood
Amazing for to view.

21

‘Is this any English gentleman,
Or James our Scottish king?
Or is it a Scottish gentleman,
To England new come in?’

22

‘No, 'tis no English gentleman,
Nor James the Scottish king;
But it is a Scottish gentleman,
Lord Jonnie is my name.’

23

‘If Lord Jonnie be your name,
As I suppose it be,


I have a champion in my hall
Will fight you till you die.’

24

‘O go fetch out that gurrley fellow,
Go fetch him out to me;
Before I lose my ain true-love,
We'll all fight till we die.’

25

Then out and came that gurrly fellow,
A gurrly fellow was he,
With twa lang sclasps between his eyes,
His shoulders there were three.

26

The king and all his nobles stood
To see the battle gained;
The queen and all her maries stood
To see Lord Jonnie slain.

27

The first stroke that Lord Jonnie gave,
He wounded very sore;
The next stroke that Lord Jonnie gave,
The champion could fight no more.

28

He's taen a whistle out from his side,
He's blawn a blast loud and shill:
‘Is there any more of your English dogs
To come here and be killed?’

29

‘A clerk, a clerk!’ the king did say,
‘To cry her toucher free;’
‘A priest, a priest!’ Lord Jonnie [did] cry
‘To wed my love and me.

30

‘'Twas for none of your monnie I fought,
Nor for none of your world's gear;
But it was for my own true-love;
I think I've bought her dear.’
[_]

“This song (L. Jonnie) I took down from the same girl who sung Hughie Graeme.”

JOHNIE SCOT—S

[_]

“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 140, Abbotsford; in the handwriting of James Hogg, who remarks at the end: “The repeater of the above song called the hero once or twice Johny Scott, which I ommitted in the MS., seeing it contradicted in the 22 verse.

1

O Johny's up thro England gane
Three quarters of a year,
An Johny's up thro England gane,
The king's banner to bear.

2

He had not been in London town
But a very little while
Till the fairest lady in the court
By Johny gaes wi child.

3

But word is to the kitchin gane,
An word's gane to the ha,
An word's gane to yon high, high court,
Amang our nobles a'.

4

An when the king got wit o that
An angry man was he:
‘On the highest tree in a' the wood
High hangit shall he be!

5

‘An for the lady, if it's true,
As I do fear it be,
I'll put her in yon castle strong,
An starve her till she die.’

6

But Johny had a clever boy,
A clever boy was he,
O Johny had a clever boy,
His name was Gregory.

7

‘O run, my boy, to yon castle,
All windows round about,
An there you'l see a fair lady,
At a window looking out.

8

‘Ye maun bid her take this silken sark —
Her ain hand sewd the gare —
An bid her come to the green wood,
For Johny waits her there.’

9

Away he ran to yon castle,
All windows round about,
Where he espy'd a lady fair,
At a window looking out.


10

‘O madam, there's a silken sark —
Your ain hand sewd the gare —
An haste ye to the good green wood,
For Johny waits you there.’

11

‘O I'm confin'd in this castle,
Though lighted round about;
My feet are bound with fetters strong,
That I cannot win out.

12

‘My gartens are of stubborn ern,
Alas! baith stiff and cold;
My breastplate of the sturdy steel,
Instead of beaten gold.

13

‘Instead of silken stays, my boy,
With steel I'm lac'd about;
My feet are bound with fetters strong,
And how can I get out?

14

‘But tell him he must stay at home,
Nor venture here for me;
Else an Italian in our court
Must fight him till he die.’

15

When Johny he got wit o that,
An angry man was he:
‘But I will gae wi a' my men
My dearest dear to see.’

16

But up then spake a noble lord,
A noble lord was he;
‘The best of a' my merry men
Shall bear you company.’

17

But up then spake his auld mother,
I wat wi meikle pain;
‘If ye will gae to London, son,
Ye'l neer come back again.’

18

But Johny turnd him round about,
I wat wi meikle pride:
‘But I will gae to London town,
Whatever may betide.’

19

When they were a' on horseback set,
How comely to behold!
For a' the hairs o Johny's head
Did shine like threads o gold.

20

The first ae town that they gaed through,
They gart the bells be rung,
But the neist town that they gaed through
They gart the mass be sung.

21

But when they gaed to London town
The trumpets loud were blown,
Which made the king and a' his court
To marvel at the sound.

22

‘Is this the Duke of Morebattle?
Or James the Scottish king?’
‘No, sire, I'm a Scottish lord,
McNaughten is my name.’

23

‘If you be that young Scottish lord,
As I believe you be,
The fairest lady in my court
She gaes wi child by thee.’

24

‘And if she be with child by me,
As I think sae may be,
It shall be heir of a' my land,
And she my gay lady.’

25

‘O no, O no,’ the king reply'd,
‘That thing can never be,
For ere the morn at ten o clock
I'll slay thy men an thee.

26

‘A bold Italian in my court
Has vanquishd Scotchmen three,
And ere the morn at ten o clock
I'm sure he will slay thee.’

27

But up then spake young Johny's boy,
A clever boy was he;
‘O master, ere that you be slain,
There's mae be slain than thee.’

28

The king and all his court appeard
Neist morning on the plain,
The queen and all her ladies came
To see youn[g] Johny slain.

29

Out then stepd the Italian bold,
And they met on the green;
Between his shoulders was an ell,
A span between his een.

30

When Johny in the list appeard,
Sae young and fair to see,
A prayer staw frae ilka heart,
A tear frae ilka ee.

31

And lang they fought, and sair they fought,
Wi swords o temperd steel,
Until the blood like draps o rain
Came trickling to their heal.


32

But Johny was a wannle youth,
And that he weel did show;
For wi a stroke o his broad sword
He clove his head in two.

33

‘A priest, a priest!’ then Johny cry'd,
‘To wed my love and me;’
‘A clerk, a clerk!’ the king reply'd,
‘To write her tocher free.’

John the little Scot

JOHNIE SCOT—T

[_]

in the youthful handwriting of Sir Walter Scott, inserted, as No 4, at the beginning of a MS. volume, in small folio, containing a number of prose pieces, etc., Abbotsford Library, L. 2.

1

Johnny's gane up to fair England
Three quarters of a year,
And Johny's gane up to fair England,
The king's broad banner to bear.

2

He had not been in fair England,
Even but a little while,
When that the king's ae dochter
To Johnny gaes wi child.

3

And word is gane to the kitchen,
And word's gane to the ha,
And word's gane to the high, high court,
Amang the nobles a'.

4

And word is gane unto the king,
In the chair where he sat,
That his ae dochter's wi bairn
To John the little Scott.

5

‘If that I thought she is wi bairn,
As I true weell she be,
I'll put her up in high prison,
And hunger her till she die.’

6

‘There is a silken sark, Johnny,
My ain sell sewed the gare,
And if ye come to tak me hence
Ye need nae taken mare.

7

‘For I am up in high prison,
And O but it is cold!
My garters are o the cold, cold iron,
In place o the beaten gold.’

8

‘Is this the Duke o York?’ they said,
‘Or James the Scottish king?
Or is it John the little Scott,
Frae Scotland new come hame?’

9

‘I have an Italian in my bower,
This day he has eaten three;
Before I either eat or sleep
The fourth man ye shall be.’

10

[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
Between his een there was two spans,
His shoulders ells were three.

11

Johnny drew forth his good braid glaive
And slate it on the plain:
‘Is there any more of your Italian dogs
That wanteth to be slain?’

12

‘A clerk, a clerk!’ her father cry'd
‘To register this deed;’
‘A priest, a priest!’ her mother cry'd,
‘To marry them wi speed.’

398

100
WILLIE O WINSBURY


399

Willie o Winsbury

WILLIE O WINSBURY—A

[_]

Campbell MSS, II, 38.

1

The king he hath been a prisoner,
A prisoner lang in Spain, O
And Willie o the Winsbury
Has lain lang wi his daughter at hame. O

2

‘What aileth thee, my daughter Janet,
Ye look so pale and wan?
Have ye had any sore sickness,
Or have ye been lying wi a man?
Or is it for me, your father dear,
And biding sae lang in Spain?’

3

‘I have not had any sore sickness,
Nor yet been lying wi a man;
But it is for you, my father dear,
In biding sae lang in Spain.’

4

‘Cast ye off your berry-brown gown,
Stand straight upon the stone,
That I may ken ye by yere shape,
Whether ye be a maiden or none.’

5

She's coosten off her berry-brown gown,
Stooden straight upo yon stone;
Her apron was short, and her haunches were round,
Her face it was pale and wan.

6

‘Is it to a man o might, Janet?
Or is it to a man of fame?
Or is it to any of the rank robbers
That's lately come out o Spain?’

7

‘It is not to a man of might,’ she said,
‘Nor is it to a man of fame;
But it is to William of Winsburry;
I could lye nae langer my lane.’

8

The king's called on his merry men all,
By thirty and by three:
‘Go fetch me William of Winsburry,
For hanged he shall be.’

9

But when he cam the king before,
He was clad o the red silk;
His hair was like to threeds o gold,
And his skin was as white as milk.

400

10

‘It is nae wonder,’ said the king,
‘That my daughter's love ye did win;
Had I been a woman, as I am a man,
My bedfellow ye should hae been.

11

‘Will ye marry my daughter Janet,
By the truth of thy right hand?
I'll gie ye gold, I'll gie ye money,
And I'll gie ye an earldom o land.’

12

‘Yes, I'll marry yere daughter Janet,
By the truth of my right hand;
But I'll hae nane o yer gold, I'll hae nane o yer money,
Nor I winna hae an earldom o land.

13

‘For I hae eighteen corn-mills,
Runs all in water clear,
And there's as much corn in each o them
As they can grind in a year.’

WILLIE O WINSBURY—B

[_]

Herd's MSS, I, 29; II, 98.

[OMITTED]

1

What aileth ye, my dochter Dysmill,
Ye look sae pale and wan?
Hae ye had ony sair sickness,
Or ill luve wi a man?

2

‘Cast aff, cast aff your bony brown goun,
And lay't down on the stane,
And I sall tell ye ay or no
Ye hae layn wi a man.’

3

She has taen aff her bony brown gown,
She has laid it on the stane;
Her waist was big, her side was round,
Her fair colour was gane.

4

‘Now is it to a man of micht,
Or to a man of mean?
Or is it to the ranke robber
That robs upon the main?’

5

‘O it's nor to a man of micht,
Nor to a man of mean;
But it's to Willie Winchberrie,
That came frae France and Spain.’

6

The king he's turnd him round about,
An angry man was he:
‘Gar bring to me your fals leman,
Wha sall high hanged be.’

7

Then Dysmill turnd her round about,
The tear blinded her ee:
‘Gin ye begin to hang, father,
Ye maun begin wi mee.’

8

When Willie he cam to the king,
His coat was o the silk;
His hair was like the thread o gowd,
His skin white as the milk.

9

‘Ne wonder, ne wonder,’ quoth the king,
‘My dochter shoud like ye;
Gin ye were a woman, as ye're a man,
My bedfellow ye sould be.

10

‘Now will ye marry my dochter Dysmill,
By the truth o your right hand?
Now will ye marry my dochter Dysmill,
And be a lord o the land?’

Lord Thomas of Winsbury

WILLIE O WINSBURY—C

[_]

Kinloch MSS, I, 315.

1

The king has been long seven years away,
Long seven years away frae hame;
Our king has been long seven years away,
A hunting oer in Spain.
[OMITTED]

2

‘What aileth thee, my ae daughter,
Thou lookst so pale and wan?
Hast thou had any sore sickness,
Or hast thou loved man?’

3

‘I have not had any sore sickness,
To make me look sae wan;
But it is for your own majestie,
You staid sae lang in Spain.’

401

4

‘Cast aff, cast aff thy silken gown,
And lay it on yon stane,
And I'll tell to thee if with child you be,
Or if ye be with nane.’

5

She's casten aff her costly gown,
That's made o the silk sae fine;
Her stays were sae strait she could na loot,
And her fair colour was wan.

6

‘Oh is it to any mighty man?
Or any lord of fame?
Or is it to the rank robbers
That I sent out o Spain?’

7

‘It is no to the rank robbers
That you sent out o Spain;
But it is to Thomas of Winsbury,
For I dought na lie my lane.’

8

‘If it be to Lord Thomas,’ he says,
‘It's hanged shall he be:’
‘If you hang Thomas of Winsbury,
You'll get na mair gude o me.’

9

The king's called up his merry men all,
By one, by two, and three;
Lord Thomas should hae been the foremost man,
But the hindmost man was he.

10

‘No wonder, no wonder,’ the king he said,
‘My daughter loved thee;
For wert thou a woman, as thou art a man,
My bedfellow thou shouldst be.

11

‘O will you marry my daughter dear,
By the faith of thy right hand?
And thou shalt reign, when I am dead,
The king over my whole land.’

12

‘I will marry your daughter dear,
With my heart, yea and my hand;
But it never shall be that Lord Winsbury
Shall rule oer fair Scotland.’

13

He's mounted her on a milk-white steed,
Himself on a dapple-grey,
And made her a lady of as much land
She could ride in a whole summer day.

WILLIE O WINSBURY—D

[_]

Communicated to Percy by the Rev. P. Parsons, of Wey, apparently in 1775. “This I had from the spinning-wheel.”

1

There was a lady fine and gay,
She was so neat and trim;
She went unto her own garden-wall,
To see her own ships come in.

2

And there she spied her daughter Jane,
Who lookd so pale and wan:
‘What, have you had some long sickness,
Or lain with some young man?’

3

‘No, I have had no long sickness,
Nor lain with no young man:’
Her petticoats they were so short,
She was full nine months gone.

4

‘Oh is it by some nobleman?
Or by some man of fame?
Or is it by Johnny Barbary,
That's lately come from Spain?’

5

‘No, it is by no nobleman,
Nor by no man of fame;
But it is by Johnny Barbary,
That's lately come from Spain.’

6

Then she calld down her merry men,
By one, by two, by three;
Johnny Barbary used to be the first,
But now the last came he.

7

‘Oh will you take my daughter Jane,
And wed her out of hand?
And you shall dine and sup with me,
And be heir of my land.’

8

‘Yes, I will take your daughter Jane,
And wed her out of hand;
And I will dine and sup with you,
But I do not want your land.’

9

Then she calld down her merry men,
With a shrill and a pleasant voice:
‘Come, let us all now mery be,
Since she has made such a happy choice.’

402

Johnnie Barbour

WILLIE O WINSBURY—E

[_]

Notes and Queries, Fifth Series, VII, 387, 1877: communicated by B. Montgomerie Ranking, as “heard sung years ago by a West Country fisherman.”

[OMITTED]

1

Oh daughter, oh daughter,’ her father he said,
‘What makes you look so pale?
[OMITTED]
Or are you in love with any man?’

2

[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
‘But if it be one of my own sailor lads,
High hanged he shall be.’

3

Johnnie Barbour he cam doun the stair,
His shirt was of the silk;
His two bonnie black een were rolling in his head,
And his skin was as white as milk.

4

‘Oh are you ready to marry my daughter,
And take her by the hand,
And to eat and drink with me at the table,
And be heir of all my land?’

5

‘Oh it's I am ready to marry your daughter,
And take her by the hand,
And to eat and drink with her at the table,
And to fight for all your land.’

Willie of Winsberye

WILLIE O WINSBURY—F

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 404; from the recitation of Agnes Laird, of Kilbarchan, August 24, 1825.

1

Our king hath been a poor prisoner,
And a poor prisoner in Spain; O
When seven long years was past and gone,
Our Scotish king came hame. O

2

As he was riding along the way,
He met with his dear dochter:
‘What ails thee, what ails thee, my dochter dear,
Thou looks so pale and wan?

3

‘Have ye had any sore sickness,
Or have ye lovd a man?
Or is it for me, my dochter dear,
I have been so long in Spain?’

4

‘I have had no sore sickness,
Nor yet have I loved a man;
But it is for you, my father dear,
Thou've been so long in Spain.’

5

‘Cast aff, cast aff thy brown silk gown,
And spread it on yonder stone,
And I will tell you by and by
Whether thou art a maid or none.’

6

She's coosten off her brown silk gown,
And spread it on yonder stone,
And her belly was big, and her face pale and wan,
And she was about half gone.

7

‘Is it to a man o micht?
Or to a man of fame?
Or is it to one of the rank rebels
That I sent out of Spain?’

8

‘It is not to a man of micht,
Nor to a man of fame,
Nor yet to one of the rank rebels
That ye sent out o Spain;
But it is to Willie o Winsberry,
Thy very own serving-man.’

9

‘If it be to Willie o Winsberry,
As I trew well it be,
Gin the morn at ten o the clock
It's hanged shall he be.’

10

As the king was riding up the gate
He met Willie clothed in scarlet red,
And his hair was as yellow as the beam, beam gold,
And his breast as white as milk.

11

‘No wonder, no wonder,’ quo the king,
‘My dochter luvit thee;
For if thou was a woman, as thou'rt a man,
My bedfellow thou should be.’

403

12

The king called down his merry men all,
By one, by two, and by three;
Sweet Willie should ha been the foremost man,
But the hindmost man drew he.

13

‘Will you take my dochter Jean,
By the faith of her richt hand?
And you shall sup and dine with me,
And heir the third part of my land.’

14

‘I will take your dochter Jean,
By the faith of her richt hand,
And I will sup and dine with you,
But a fig for all your land;
For I've as much land in Winsberry
As we'll ride in a long summer's day.’

Lord Thomas o Winsbury; or, Lord Thomas of Winesberry and the King's Daughter

WILLIE O WINSBURY—G

[_]

Buchan's MSS, II, 174; Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 212.

1

Seven years the king he staid
Into the land of Spain,
And seven years True Thomas was
His daughter's chamberlain.

2

But it fell ance upon a day
The king he did come home;
She baked and she benjed ben,
And did him there welcome.

3

‘What aileth you, my daughter Janet,
You look sae pale and wan?
There is a dreder in your heart,
Or else you love a man.’

4

‘There is no dreder in my heart,
Nor do I love a man;
But it is for your lang byding
Into the land of Spain.’

5

‘Ye'll cast aff your bonny brown gown,
And lay it on a stone,
And I'll tell you, my jelly Janet,
If ever ye lovd a man.’

6

She's cast aff her bonny brown gown,
And laid it on a stone;
Her belly was big, her twa sides high,
Her colour it was quite gane.

7

‘Is it to a man o the might, Janet,
Or is it till a man o the main?
Or is it to one o my poor soldiers,
That I brought hame frae Spain?’

8

‘It's not till a man o the might,’ she says,
‘Nor yet to a man o the main;
But it's to Thomas o winsbury,
That cannot longer len.’

9

‘O where are all my wall-wight men,
That I pay meat and fee,
That will go for him True Thomas,
And bring him in to me?
For the morn, ere I eat or drink,
High hanged shall he be.’

10

She's turnd her right and round about,
The tear blinded her ee:
‘If ye do any ill to True Thomas,
Ye's never get gude o me.’

11

When Thomas came before the king
He glanced like the fire;
His hair was like the threads o gold,
His eyes like crystal clear.

12

‘It was nae wonder, my daughter Janet,
Altho ye loved this man;
If he were a woman, as he is a man,
My bed-fellow he would been.

13

‘O will ye marry my daughter Janet?
The truth's in your right hand;
Ye's hae some o my gold, and some o my gear,
And the twalt part o my land.’

14

‘It's I will marry your daughter Janet;
The truth's in my right hand;
I'll hae nane o your gold, nor nane o your gear,
I've enough in my own land.

15

‘But I will marry your daughter Janet
With thirty ploughs and three,
And four and twenty bonny breast-mills,
And a' on the water o Dee.’

404

Lord Thomas of Winesberrie

WILLIE O WINSBURY—H

[_]

Kinloch's Scottish Ballads, p. 92.

1

It fell upon a time, when the proud king of France
Went a hunting for five months and more,
That his dochter fell in love with Thomas of Winesberrie,
From Scotland newly come oer.

2

Whan her father cam hame frae hunting the deer,
And his dochter before him cam,
Her belly it was big, and her twa sides round,
And her fair colour was wan.

3

‘What ails thee, what ails thee, my dochter Janet?
What maks thee to look sae wan?
Ye've either been sick, and very, very sick,
Or else ye hae lain wi a man.’

4

‘Ye're welcome, ye're welcome, dear father,’ she says,
‘Ye're welcome hame to your ain,
For I hae been sick, and very, very sick,
Thinking lang for your coming hame.

5

‘O pardon, O pardon, dear father,’ she says,
‘A pardon ye'll grant me:’
‘Na pardon, na pardon, my dochter,’ he says,
‘Na pardon I'll grant thee.

6

‘O is it to a man of micht,
Or to a man of mean?
Or is it to onie of thae rank robbers
That I sent hame frae Spain?’

7

‘It is not to a man of micht,
Nor to a man of mean;
But it is to Thomas o Winesberrie,
And for him I suffer pain.’

8

‘If it be to Thomas o' Winesberrie,
As I trust well it be,
Before I either eat or drink,
Hie hangit sall he be.’

9

When this bonnie boy was brought afore the king,
His claithing was o the silk,
His fine yellow hair hang dangling doun,
And his skin was like the milk.

10

‘Na wonder, na wonder, Lord Thomas,’ he says,
‘My dochter fell in love wi thee,
For if I war a woman, as I am a man,
My bed-fellow ye shoud be.

11

‘Then will ye marry my dochter Janet,
To be heir to a' my land?
O will ye marry my dochter Janet,
Wi the truth o your richt hand?’

12

‘I will marry your dochter Janet,
Wi the truth o my richt hand;
I'll hae nane o your gowd, nor yet o your gear,
I've eneuch in fair Scotland.

13

‘But I will marry your dochter Janet,
I care na for your land,
For she's be a queen, and I a king,
Whan we come to fair Scotland.’

Lord Thomas of Winsberry

WILLIE O WINSBURY—I

[_]

a. A stall copy printed by M. Randall, Stirling. b. A stall copy by C. Randall, Stirling. c. Buchan's Gleanings, p. 127.

1

It fell upon a time that the proud king of France
Went a hunting for five months and more;
His daughter fell in love with Lord Winsberry,
Who from Scotland was newly come oer.

2

‘You're welcome, welcome, dear father,’ she said,
‘You're welcome again to your own;
For I have been sick, and very, very sick,
Thinking long for your coming home.’

3

‘Put off, put off your gown of green,’ he says,
‘And spread it on yonder green,
And tell them from me that in mourning you are,
Or that ye have lain with a man.’

405

4

She's put off her gown of green,
And spread it on the strand;
Her haunches were round, and her belly was big,
From her face the colour is gone.

5

‘O is it to a man of might,’ he says,
‘Or is it to a man that's mean?
Or is it to one of those rank rebels,
That lately from Scotland came?’

6

‘O it is to a man of might,’ she says,
‘It is not to one that is mean;
It is to Lord Thomas of Winsberry,
And for him I must suffer pain.’

7

The king called up his merry men all,
By one, by two, and by three:
‘Go fetch me Lord Thomas of Winsberry,
For tomorrow he shall die.’

8

They sought him up, they sought him down,
As fast as fast could be;
There they found Lord Thomas of Winsberry,
Sitting under an orange tree.

9

‘Get up, get up, Lord Thomas,’ they said,
‘Get up, and bound your way;
For the king has sworn by his honoured crown
That tomorrow is thy dying-day.’

10

‘O what have I robbd, or what have I stolen,
Or what have I killed or slain,
That I should be afraid to speak to your king?
For I have done him no wrong.’

11

Lord Thomas came tripping up the stair,
His cloathing was of the silk;
His fine yellow hair hung dangling down,
His skin was white as the milk.

12

And when he came before the king
He kneeled down on his knee;
Says, What is your will with me, my liege,
What is your will with me?

13

‘I think no wonder, Lord Thomas,’ he says,
‘That my daughter fell in love with thee;
If thou wert a woman, as thou art a man,
My bed-fellow thou wouldst be.

14

‘Will ye marry my daughter Jean,
By the faith of thy right hand?
Thou'se have part of my gold, part of my gear,
And a third part of my land.’

15

‘Yes, I will marry thy daughter Jean,
By the faith of my right hand;
I'll have none of your gold, none of your gear;
I have enough in fair Scotland.’

16

He has mounted her on a milk-white steed,
Himself on a dapple-grey;
He's got as much land in fair Scotland
As they can ride in a summer's day.


WILLIE O WINSBURY—J

[_]

This copy, J, which resembles D, was communicated by Mr Macmath as derived, September 13, 1886, from his aunt, Miss Jane Webster, who learned it above fifty years ago at Airds of Kells, Kirkcudbrightshire, from the singing of Samuel Galloway. “Barborough may be spelt Barburgh, Barbara, or even, perhaps, Barbary.”

1

There was a lass in the North Countrie,
And her clothing it was the green,
And she's looked ower her father's castle-wa,
For to see her father's ships sail in, in,
For to see her father's ships on sea.

2

‘What aileth thee, dear daughter?’ he said,
‘What makes thee so pale and wan?
I'm afraid you've got some sore sickness,
Or have lain wi some young man, man,
Or have lain wi some young man.’

3

‘O I have got no sore sickness,
Nor I've lain with no young man;
But the thing that grieves me to the heart
Is my true-love is staying too long.’
That my true-love, etc.

4

‘O is he a lord, or a duke, or a knight,
Or a man of birth or fame?
Or is he one of my own servant-men,
That is lately come from Spain?’

5

‘He's neither a lord, nor a duke, nor a knight,
Nor a man of birth or fame;
But he is one of your own servant-men,
That is lately come from Spain.’

6

‘O call him down, the Spanish dog,
O call him down to me,
For before eight o'clock next morning
Hanged he shall be, be,
Aye, hanged on a tree.’

7

‘It's oh forbid, dear father,’ she said,
‘That anything there should be,
For if that you hang John Barborough,
You'll get nae mair good o me.’

8

He's called down his merry men all,
By one and by two and by three;
John Barborough was to be the first,
But the last man down came he.
[OMITTED]

9

[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
For every pound that he laid down,
John Barborough laid down three.

406

101
WILLIE O DOUGLAS DALE


407

Willy o Douglass-dale

WILLIE O DOUGLAS DALE—A

[_]

Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 8.

1

O Willy was as brave a lord
As ever saild the sea,
And he has gane to the English court,
To serve for meat and fee.

2

He had nae been at the kingis court
A twelvemonth and a day,
Till he longd for a sight o the king's daughter,
But ane he coud never see.

3

O it fell ance upon a day
To the green wood she has gane,
An Willy he has followd her,
With the clear light o the moon.

4

He looted him low, by her did go,
Wi his hat intill his hand:
‘O what's your will wi me, Sir Knight?
I pray keep your hat on.’

5

‘O I am not a knight, Madam,
Nor never thinks to be;
For I am Willy o Douglassdale,
An I serve for meat and fee.’

6

‘O I'll gang to my bowr,’ she says,
‘An sigh baith even an morn
That ever I saw your face, Willy,
Or that ever ye was born.

7

‘O I'll gang to my bowr,’ she says,
‘An I'll pray baith night an day,
To keep me frae your tempting looks,
An frae your great beauty.’

8

O in a little after that
He keepit Dame Oliphant's bowr,
An the love that passd between this twa,
It was like paramour.

9

‘O narrow, narrow's my gown, Willy,
That wont to be sae wide;
An short, short is my coats, Willy,
That wont to be sae side;
An gane is a' my fair colour,
An low laid is my pride.

10

‘But an my father get word of this,
He'll never drink again;
An gin my mother get word of this,
In her ain bowr she'll go brain;
An gin my bold brothers get word o this,
I fear, Willy, you'll be slain.’

11

‘O will you leave your father's court,
An go along wi me?
I'll carry you unto fair Scotland,
And mak you a lady free.’

12

She pat her han in her pocket
An gae him five hunder poun:
‘An take you that now, Squire Willy,
Till awa that we do won.’

13

Whan day was gane, and night was come,
She lap the castle-wa;
But Willy kepit his gay lady,
He was laith to let her fa.

14

Whan night was gane, an day come in,
An lions gaed to their dens,
An ay the lady followd him,
An the tears came hailing down.

15

‘O want ye ribbons to your hair?
Or roses to your shoone?
Or want ye as meickle dear bought love
As your ain heart can contain?’

16

‘I want nae ribbons to my hair,
Nor roses till my shoone;
An Ohone, alas, for dear bought love!
I have mair nor I can contain.’

17

O he's pu'd the oak in good green wood,
An he's made to her a fire;

408

He coverd it oer wi withred leaves,
An gard it burn thro ire.

18

He made a bed i the good green wood,
An he's laid his lady down,
An he's coverd her oer wi fig-tree leaves,
But an his ain night-gown.

19

‘O had I a bunch o yon red roddins,
That grows in yonder wood,
But an a drink o water clear,
I think it woud do me good.’

20

He's pu'd her a bunch o yon red roddins,
That grew beside yon thorn,
But an a drink o water clear,
Intill his hunting-horn.

21

He's bent his bow, and shot the deer,
An thro the green wood gane,
An ere that he came back again
His lady took travailing.

22

‘O up ye tak that horn,’ she says,
‘An ye blaw a blast for me;
Gin my father be in good green wood,
Sae seen's he'll come me ti.’

23

‘O gin there be a man on earth
That ye loo better nor me,
Ye blaw the horn yoursel,’ he says,
‘For it's never be blawn by me.’

24

O he's bent his bow, an shot the deer,
An thro the green wood has he gane,
An lang or he came back again
His lady bare him a son.

25

O up has he tane his bonny young son,
An washn him wi the milk,
An up has he tane his gay lady,
An rowd her i the silk.

26

He's bent his bow, and shot the deer,
An thro the green wood has he gane,
Till he met wi a well-fard may,
Her father's flock feeding.

27

‘Ye leave your father's flock feeding,
An go along wi me;
I'll carry you to a lady fair,
Will gi you both meat and fee.’

28

O whan she came the lady before,
She's fa'n down on her knee:
‘O what's your will wi me, my dame?
An a dame you seem to be.’

29

‘O I'm Dame Oliphant, the king's daughter,
Nae doubt but ye've heard o me;
Will you leave your father's flock feeding,
An go to Scotlan wi me?

30

‘An ye sal get a nouriship
Intill an earldome,
An I will gar provide for the
To marry some brave Scotsman.’

31

The may she keepit the bonny boy,
An Willy led his lady,
Untill they took their fair shippin,
Then quikly hame came they.

32

The win was fair, an the sea was clear,
An they a' wan safe to lan;
He's haild her lady of Douglassdale,
Himsel the lord within.

Dame Oliphant, or, Willie o Douglass Dale; or, The Earl of Douglas and Dame Oliphant; or, Lord Willie Douglas

WILLIE O DOUGLAS DALE—B

[_]

a. Buchan MSS, II, 117. b. Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 181; Motherwell's MS., p. 619.

1

Willie was an earl's ae son,
And an earl's ae son was he,
But he thought his father lack to sair,
And his mother of low degree.

2

But he is on to fair England,
To sair for meat an fee,
And all was for Dame Oliphant,
A woman of great beauty.

3

He hadna been in fair England
A month but barely ane,
Ere he dreamd that fair Dame Oliphant
Gied him a gay gold ring.

4

He hadna been in fair England
A month but barely four,

409

Ere he dreamd that fair Dame Oliphant
Gied him a red rose flower,
Well set about with white lilies,
Like to the paramour.

5

It fell ance upon a day
Dame Oliphant thought lang,
And she gaed on to good green wood,
As fast as she could gang.

6

As Willie stood in his chamber-door,
And as he thought it good,
There he beheld Dame Oliphant,
As she came thro the wood.

7

He's taen his bow his arm oer,
His sword into his hand,
And he is on to good green wood,
As fast as he could gang.

8

And there he found Dame Oliphant,
Was lying sound asleep,
And aye the sounder she did sleep
The nearer he did creep.

9

But when she wakend from her sleep
An angry maid was she,
Crying, Had far away frae me, young man,
Had far away frae me!
For I fear ye are the Scottish knight
That beguiles young ladies free.

10

‘I am not the Scottish knight,
Nor ever thinks to be;
I am but Willie o Douglass Dale,
That serves for meat an fee.’

11

‘If ye be Willie o Douglass Dale,
Ye're dearly welcome to me;
For oft in my sleep have I thought on
You and your merry winking ee.’

12

But the cocks they crew, and the horns blew,
And the lions took the hill,
And Willie he gaed hame again,
To his hard task and till;
And likewise did Dame Oliphant,
To her book and her seam.

13

Till it fell ance upon a day
Dame Oliphant thought lang,
And she went on to Willie's bower-yates,
As fast as she could gang.

14

‘O are ye asleep now, Squire Willie?
O are you asleep?’ said she;
O waken, waken, Squire Willie,
O waken, and speak to me.

15

‘For the gowns that were oer wide, Willie,
They winna meet on me,
And the coats that were oer side, Willie,
They winna come to my knee;
And if the knights of my father's court get word,
I'm sure they'll gar you die.’
[OMITTED]

16

But she's taen a web of the scarlet,
And she tare it fine an sma,
And even into Willie's arms
She leapt the castle-wa;
And Willie was wight and well able,
And he keept her frae a fa.

17

But the cocks they crew, and the horns blew,
And the lions took the hill,
And Willie's ladie followed him,
And the tears did twinkle still.

18

‘O want ye ribbons to your hair?
Or roses to your sheen?
Or want ye chains about your neck?
Ye'se get mair ere that be deen.’

19

‘I want not ribbons to my hair,
Nor roses to my sheen,
And there's mair chains about my neck
Nor ever I'll see deen;
But I have as much dear bought love
As my heart can contain.’

20

‘Will ye go to the cards or dice?
Or to the table ee?
Or to a bed, so well down spread,
And sleep till it be day?’

21

‘I've mair need of the roddins, Willie,
That grow on yonder thorn;
Likewise a drink o Marywell water,
Out of your grass-green horn.

22

‘I've mair need of a fire, Willie,
To had me frae the cauld;
Likewise a glass of your red wine,
Ere I bring my son to the fauld.’

410

23

He's got a bush o roddins till her,
That grows on yonder thorn;
Likewise a drink o Marywell water,
Out of his grass-green horn.

24

He carried the match in his pocket
That kindled to her the fire,
Well set about wi oaken spells,
That leamd oer Lincolnshire.

25

And he has bought to his lady
The white bread and the wine;
And the milk he milked from the goats,
He fed his young son on.

26

Till it fell ance upon a day
Dame Oliphant thought lang:
‘O gin ye hae a being, Willie,
I pray ye hae me hame.’

27

He's taen his young son in his arms,
His lady by the hand,
And they're down thro good green wood,
As fast as they could gang.

28

Till they came to a shepherd-may,
Was feeding her flocks alone;
Said, Will ye gae alang wi me,
And carry my bonny young son?

29

The gowns that were shapen for my back,
They shall be sewd for thine;
And likewise I'll gar Squire Willie
Gie you a braw Scotsman.

30

When they came on to Willie's boweryates,
And far beyont the sea,
She was haild the lady o Douglass Dale,
And Willie an earl to be:
Likewise the maid they brought awa,
She got a braw Scotsman.

Douglass Dale

WILLIE O DOUGLAS DALE—C

[_]

Kinloch MSS, V, 327, in the handwriting of Dr John Hill Burton.

1

Sweet Sir William of Douglas Dale,
A knight's ae son was he;
He dreamed of dear Dame Oliphant,
Lang ere he did her see.

2

He dreamed a woman of great beauty
Gave him a red rose flower,
Well busket about wi the lillies white,
Just like the paramour.

3

O sweet Sir William of Douglas Dale,
A knight's ae son was he,
And he is on to the king's high court,
To serve for meat and fee.
[OMITTED]

4

Five hundred pounds of Spanish gold,
Tied in a towal so white,
And that she has given her Lord William,
Out oer the castle-dyke.

5

Five hundred pounds of Spanish gold,
Tied in a towel sae sma,
And that she has given her own true-love,
Out ore the castle-wa.

6

She rowed hersell in a robe o silk,
To loup the castle-wa;
He ceppet her in his armes twa,
And he let not her get a fa.
[OMITTED]

7

The cocks do craw, and the day does daw,
And the wild fowl bodes on hill;
The lassie she followed her Sweet William,
And let the tears down fall.
[OMITTED]

8

‘O want you ribbons to your hair?
Or roses to your sheen?
Or want ye as much of feel daft love
As your heart can contain?’

9

‘I want nor ribbons to my hair,
Nor roses to my sheen;
I've got as much o dear bought love
As my heart can contain.’
[OMITTED]

411

10

He carried a flint in his pocket,
And he strack to her a fire,
And he buskit it roun wi the leaves o oak,
And gart it burn wi ire.

11

He's taen his big coat him about,
And his gun into his hand,
And he has gone to good green wood,
To kill some venison.

12

He's taen his big coat him about,
And his gun into his han,
But lang ere he came back again
She bare his dear young son.

13

He rowed her in his muckle coat,
But in his good night-gown,
And he fed her wi the good goat-milk,
Till she was well able to gang.

14

He's taen his young son in his arm,
His lady in his hand,
And they are down thro good green wood,
As fast as they can gang.

15

And they came to a shepherd's daughter,
Was feeding at her sheep;
Says, Will ye go to Douglass Dale,
Wi my yong son to keep?

16

O I will gee you gold, maiden,
And I will gee you fee,
Gin ye will go to Douglas Dale,
Wi my yong son and me.

17

She's taen his young son in her arm,
And kissed baith cheek and chin;
Says, I will go to Douglas Dale,
As fast as I can win.

18

He's taen his big coat him about,
And his lady in his hand,
And they are off to Douglas Dale,
As fast as they can gang.

19

And when they came to Douglas Dale
A happy man was he,
For his lady, and his young son,
And his nurse, a' three.

WILLIE O DOUGLAS DALE—D

1

Willie was a rich man's son,
A rich man's son was he;
Hee thought his father lake to sair,
An his mother of mine digree,
An he is on to our English court,
To serve for meatt an fee.

2

He hadno ben in our king's court
A tuall-month an a day,
Till he fell in love we Mary, Dem [Ele]fon,
An a great buity was she.

3

He hadno ben in our king's court
A tuall-month an a houre,
Till he dreamed a lady of buty bright
Gave him a rosey flour.

4

The lady touk her mantell her about,
Her gooun-teall in her hand,
An she is on to gued grean woud,
As fast as she could gang.

5

[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
An ther she spayed a gellant knight,
Kamen his yallou hear.

6

‘What is yer name, sir knight?
For a knight I am sure ye be;’
‘I am called Willie of Duglas Dall,
Did ye never hear of me?’


‘If ye be Willie of Duglass Daill,
I afft have heard of thee.’

7

‘What is yer name, ye lovely dame?
For a lady I trou ye be;’
‘I am called Mary, Dem Elefond,
Did ye never hear of me?’

8

‘In ye be Mary, Dem Elefon,
As I trust well ye be,
[OMITTED]
My heart ye haa ye we.’

9

The lady was fair an rear,
The knight's heart had she;
The knight was tall an straght withall,
The lady's hart had he.

10

It fell ance upon a day
Dem Elofen thought lang,
An she is on to Willie's bour,
As fast as she could gang.

11

‘Narrou is my pettecot, Willie,
It ance was saa wide,
An narrou is my stays, Willie,
Att ance wer saa wide,
An paill is my chikes, Willie,
An laigh, laigh is my pride.

12

[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
An the knights of my father's court gat word of this,
I feer they wad gare ye diee.’

13

He touke [OMITTED]
The lady by the hand,
An they are one to gued green woud,
As fast as they coud gang.

14

It fell ance upon a day
Strong travileng came her tell,
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

15

‘Ye take your boue on yer shoulder,
Yer arrous in yer hand,
An ye gaa farr throu green woud,
An shout some veneson.

16

‘Fan ye hear me loud cray,
Bide far awaa fra me,
Bat fan ye hear me laying still
Ye may come back an see.’

17

Fan he hard her loud cray,
He bad far awaa,
Bat fan he heard her laying still
He did come an see,
An he got her
An her young son her wee.

18

He milked the goats,
An feed his young son wee,
And he made a fire of the oken speals,
An warmed his lady wee.

19

It fell ance upon a day
The lady though[t] lang:
‘An ye haa any place in fair Scotland, Willie,
I wiss ye wad haa me hame.’

20

[OMITTED]
I ha lands an reants saa friee,
The bonny lands of Duglass Daill,
They a' lay bread an friee.’

21

He's taen the knight-bairn in his arms,
His lady by the hand,
An he is out throu gued green woud,
As fast as they coud gang.

22

[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
Till they came to a maid kepping her goats,
[OMITTED]

23

‘Hallë, ye maid,
For a maid ye seem to be;
Will ye live your goats kepping
An goo we me?

24

‘I cannot live my father, I canno live my midder,
Nor yet my brethren three;
I cannot live my goats kepping,
An goo along we the.

25

‘Fatt is your name, ye lovely dame?
For a lady I am shour ye be;’
‘I am called Mary, Dem Elifond,
Did ye never hear of me?’

26

‘If ye be Mary, Dem Elifond,
As I trust well ye be,
I will live my goats kepping
An goo along we the.

27

‘For I will live my father, an I ill live my mother,
An my brothers three,
An I will live my goats,
An go along we thee.’

28

The maid touke the knight-bairn in her ar[m]s,
An his lady took he,
An they are to gued ship-bourd,
And took God to be ther foresteed, an didne fear to droun.

29

An they landed att Duglas Dalle,
Far the lands was braid an frie,
An the knight-bairn was Black Sir James of Duglas Dall,
An a gallant knight was hee.

412

102
WILLIE AND EARL RICHARD'S DAUGHTER

The Birth of Robin Hood

WILLIE AND EARL RICHARD'S DAUGHTER—A

[_]

Jamieson's Popular Ballads, II, 44, from Mrs Brown's recitation.

1

O Willie's large o limb and lith,
And come o high degree,
And he is gane to Earl Richard,
To serve for meat and fee.

2

Earl Richard had but ae daughter,
Fair as a lily-flower,
And they made up their love-contract
Like proper paramour.

3

It fell upon a simmer's nicht,
Whan the leaves were fair and green,

413

That Willie met his gay ladie
Intil the wood alane.

4

‘O narrow is my gown, Willie,
That wont to be sae wide;
And gane is a' my fair colour,
That wont to be my pride.

5

‘But gin my father should get word
What's past between us twa,
Before that he should eat or drink,
He'd hang you oer that wa.

6

‘But ye'll come to my bower, Willie,
Just as the sun gaes down,
And kep me in your arms twa,
And latna me fa down.’

7

O whan the sun was now gane down,
He's doen him till her bower,
And there, by the lee licht o the moon,
Her window she lookit oer.

8

Intill a robe o red scarlet
She lap, fearless o harm;
And Willie was large o lith and limb,
And keppit her in his arm.

9

And they've gane to the gude green wood,
And, ere the night was deen,
She's born to him a bonny young son,
Amang the leaves sae green.

10

Whan night was gane, and day was come,
And the sun began to peep,
Up and raise the Earl Richard
Out o his drowsy sleep.

11

He's ca'd upon his merry young men,
By ane, by twa, and by three:
‘O what's come o my daughter dear,
That she's nae come to me?

12

‘I dreamt a dreary dream last night,
God grant it come to gude!
I dreamt I saw my daughter dear
Drown in the saut sea flood.

13

‘But gin my daughter be dead or sick,
Or yet be stown awa,
I mak a vow, and I'll keep it true,
I'll hang ye ane and a'!’

14

They sought her back, they sought her fore,
They sought her up and down;
They got her in the gude green wood,
Nursing her bonny young son.

15

He took the bonny boy in his arms,
And kist him tenderlie;
Says, Though I would your father hang,
Your mother's dear to me.

16

He kist him oer and oer again:
‘My grandson I thee claim,
And Robin Hood in gude green wood,
And that shall be your name.’

17

And mony ane sings o grass, o grass,
And mony ane sings o corn,
And mony ane sings o Robin Hood
Kens little whare he was born.

18

It wasna in the ha, the ha,
Nor in the painted bower,
But it was in the gude green wood,
Amang the lily-flower.

The Birth of Robin Hood

WILLIE AND EARL RICHARD'S DAUGHTER—B

[_]

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 1.

1

Mony ane talks o the grass, the grass,
And mony ane o the corn,
And mony ane talks o gude Robin Hood
Kens little whar he was born.

2

He was gotten in a earl's ha,
And in a lady's bower,
And born into gude greenwood,
Thro mony cauld winter's shower.

3

His father was the earl's own steward,
Sprung frae sma pedigree;
His mother, Earl Huntingdon's ae daughter,
For he had nane else but she.

4

When nine months were near an end,
And eight months they were gone,

414

The lady's cheeks wi tears were wet,
And thus she made her moan:

5

‘What shall I say, my love Archibald,
This day for you and me?
I will be laid in cauld irons,
And ye'll be hanged on tree.’

6

‘What aileth my love Clementina?
What gars you mourn sae sair?’
‘You know,’ said she, ‘I'm with child to thee,
These eight lang months and mair.’

7

‘Will ye gae to my mother's bower,
Stands on yon stately green?
Or will ye gae to the gude greenwood,
Where ye will not be seen?’

8

‘I winna gang to your mother's bower,
Stands on yon stately green;
But I will on to gude greenwood,
As fast as they could gang.

9

He's girt his sword down by his side,
Took his lady by the hand,
And they are on thro gude greenwood,
As fast as they could gang.

10

With slowly steps these couple walkd,
About miles scarcely three.
When this lady, being sair wearied out,
Lay down beneath a tree.

11

‘O for a few of yon junipers,
To cheer my heart again,
And likewise for a gude midwife,
To ease me of my pain!’

12

‘I'll bring to you yon junipers,
To cheer your heart again,
And I'll be to you a gude midwife,
To ease you of your pain.’

13

‘Had far awa frae me, Archibald,
For this will never dee;
That's nae the fashion o our land,
And it's nae be used by me.

14

‘Ye'll take your small-sword by your side,
Your buckler and your bow,
And ye'll gae down thro gude greenwood,
And hunt the deer and roe.

15

‘You will stay in gude greenwood,
And with the chase go on,
Until yon white hind pass you by,
Then straight to me ye'll come.’

16

He's girt his sword then by his side,
His buckler and his bow,
And he is on thro gude greenwood,
To hunt the deer and roe.

17

And in the greenwood he did stay,
And with the chase gaed on,
Until the white hind passd him by,
Then to his love he came.

18

He girt his sword then by his side,
Fast thro greenwood went he,
And there he found his love lie dead,
Beneath the green oak tree.

19

The sweet young babe that she had born
Right lively seemed to be;
‘Ohon, alas!’ said young Archibald,
‘A mournful scene to me!

20

‘Altho my sweet babe is alive,
This does increase my woe;
How to nourish a motherless babe
Is mair than I do know.’

21

He looked east, he looked west,
To see what he could see,
Then spied the Earl o Huntingdon,
And mony a man him wi.

22

Then Archibald fled from the earl's face,
Among the leaves sae green,
That he might hear what might be said,
And see, and nae be seen.

23

The earl straight thro the greenwood came,
Unto the green oak tree,
And there he saw his daughter dead,
Her living child her wi.

24

Then he's taen up the little boy,
Rowed him in his gown-sleeve;
Said, Tho your father's to my loss,
Your mother's to me leave.

25

And if ye live until I die,
My bowers and lands ye'se heir;

415

You are my only daughter's child;
But her I never had mair.

26

Ye'se hae all kinds of nourishment,
And likewise nurses three;
If I knew where the fause knave were,
High hanged should he be.

27

His daughter he buried in gude church-yard,
All in a mournful mood,
And brought the boy to church that day,
And christend him Robin Hood.

28

This boy was bred in the earl's ha
Till he became a man,
But loved to hunt in gude greenwood,
To raise his noble fame.

WILLIE AND EARL RICHARD'S DAUGHTER—C

[_]

Kinloch MSS, V, 330 f, the last two stanzas of ‘Douglass Dale.’

1

Mony ane speaks o grass, o grass,
And mony mare o corn,
And mony ane sings o Robin Heed
Kens little whare he was born.

2

He was born in good green wood,
At the fut o yon olive tree;
His father was a knight's ae son,
And his mother a lady free.

103
ROSE THE RED AND WHITE LILY


417

Rose the Red and White Lilly

ROSE THE RED AND WHITE LILY—A

[_]

Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 1.

1

O Rose the Red and White Lilly,
Their mother dear was dead,
And their father married an ill woman,
Wishd them twa little guede.

2

Yet she had twa as fu fair sons
As eer brake manis bread,
And the tane of them loed her White Lilly,
An the tither lood Rose the Red.

3

O biggit ha they a bigly bowr,
And strawn it oer wi san,
And there was mair mirth i the ladies' bowr
Than in a' their father's lan.

4

But out it spake their step-mother,
Wha stood a little foreby:
I hope to live and play the prank
Sal gar your loud sang ly.

5

She's calld upon her eldest son:
Come here, my son, to me;
It fears me sair, my eldest son,
That ye maun sail the sea.

6

‘Gin it fear you sair, my mither dear,
Your bidding I maun dee;
But be never war to Rose the Red
Than ye ha been to me.’

7

‘O had your tongue, my eldest son,
For sma sal be her part;
You'll nae get a kiss o her comely mouth
Gin your very fair heart should break.’

8

She's calld upon her youngest son:
Come here, my son, to me;
It fears me sair, my youngest son,
That ye maun sail the sea.

9

‘Gin it fear you sair, my mither dear,
Your bidding I maun dee;
But be never war to White Lilly
Than ye ha been to me.’

10

‘O haud your tongue, my youngest son,
For sma sall be her part;
You'll neer get a kiss o her comely mouth
Tho your very fair heart should break.’

11

When Rose the Red and White Lilly
Saw their twa loves were gane,
Then stopped ha they their loud, loud sang,
And tane up the still mournin;
And their step-mother stood listnin by,
To hear the ladies' mean.

12

Then out it spake her White Lilly:
My sister, we'll be gane;
Why should we stay in Barnsdale,
To waste our youth in pain?

13

Then cutted ha they their green cloathing
A little below their knee,
An sae ha they there yallow hair,
A little aboon there bree;
An they've doen them to haely chapel,
Was christened by Our Lady.

14

There ha they chang'd their ain twa names,
Sae far frae ony town,
An the tane o them hight Sweet Willy,
An the tither o them Roge the Roun.

418

15

Between this twa a vow was made,
An they sware it to fulfil;
That at three blasts o a bugle-horn,
She'd come her sister till.

16

Now Sweet Willy's gane to the kingis court,
Her true-love for to see,
An Roge the Roun to good green wood,
Brown Robin's man to be.

17

As it fell out upon a day
They a' did put the stane,
Full seven foot ayont them a'
She gard the puttin-stane gang.

18

She leand her back against an oak,
And gae a loud Ohone!
Then out it spake him Brown Robin,
But that's a woman's moan!

19

‘O ken ye by my red rose lip?
Or by my yallow hair?
Or ken ye by my milk-white breast?
For ye never saw it bare?’

20

‘I ken no by your red rose lip,
Nor by your yallow hair;
Nor ken I by your milk-white breast,
For I never saw it bare;
But come to your bowr whaever sae likes,
Will find a lady there.’

21

‘O gin ye come to my bowr within,
Thro fraud, deceit, or guile,
Wi this same bran that's in my han,
I swear I will the kill.’

22

‘But I will come thy bowr within,
An spear nae leave,’ quoth he;
‘An this same bran that's i my han
I sall ware back on the.’

23

About the tenth hour of the night
The ladie's bower-door was broken,
An eer the first hour of the day
The bonny knave-bairn was gotten.

24

When days were gane, and months were run,
The lady took travailing,
And sair she cry'd for a bowr-woman,
For to wait her upon.

25

Then out it spake him Brown Robin:
Now what needs a' this din?
For what coud any woman do
But I coud do the same?

26

‘'Twas never my mither's fashion,’ she says,
‘Nor sall it ever be mine,
That belted knights shoud eer remain
Where ladies dreed their pine.

27

‘But ye take up that bugle-horn,
An blaw a blast for me;
I ha a brother i the kingis court
Will come me quickly ti.’

28

‘O gin ye ha a brither on earth
That ye love better nor me,
Ye blaw the horn yoursel,’ he says,
‘For ae blast I winna gie.’

29

She's set the horn till her mouth,
And she's blawn three blasts sae shrill;
Sweet Willy heard i the kingis court,
And came her quickly till.

30

Then up it started Brown Robin,
An an angry man was he:
‘There comes nae man this bowr within
But first must fight wi me.’

31

O they hae fought that bowr within
Till the sun was gaing down,
Till drops o blude frae Rose the Red
Came hailing to the groun.

32

She leand her back against the wa,
Says, Robin, let a' be;
For it is a lady born and bred
That's foughten sae well wi thee.

33

O seven foot he lap a back;
Says, Alas, and wae is me!
I never wisht in a' my life,
A woman's blude to see;
An a' for the sake of ae fair maid
Whose name was White Lilly.

34

Then out it spake her White Lilly,
An a hearty laugh laugh she:
She's lived wi you this year an mair,
Tho ye kentna it was she.

35

Now word has gane thro a' the lan,
Before a month was done,
That Brown Robin's man, in good green wood,
Had born a bonny young son.

419

36

The word has gane to the kingis court,
An to the king himsel;
‘Now, by my fay,’ the king could say,
‘The like was never heard tell!’

37

Then out it spake him Bold Arthur,
An a hearty laugh laugh he:
I trow some may has playd the loun,
And fled her ain country.

38

‘Bring me my steed,’ then cry'd the king,
‘My bow and arrows keen;
I'l ride mysel to good green wood,
An see what's to be seen.’

39

‘An't please your grace,’ said Bold Arthur,
‘My liege, I'll gang you wi,
An try to fin a little foot-page,
That's strayd awa frae me.’

40

O they've hunted i the good green wood
The buck but an the rae,
An they drew near Brown Robin's bowr,
About the close of day.

41

Then out it spake the king in hast,
Says, Arthur, look an see
Gin that be no your little foot-page
That leans against yon tree.

42

Then Arthur took his bugle-horn,
An blew a blast sae shrill;
Sweet Willy started at the sound,
An ran him quickly till.

43

‘O wanted ye your meat, Willy?
Or wanted ye your fee?
Or gat ye ever an angry word,
That ye ran awa frae me?’

44

‘I wanted nought, my master dear;
To me ye ay was good;
I came but to see my ae brother,
That wons in this green wood.’

45

Then out it spake the king again,
Says, Bonny boy, tell to me
Wha lives into yon bigly bowr,
Stands by yon green oak tree?

46

‘O pardon me,’ says Sweet Willy,
‘My liege, I dare no tell;
An I pray you go no near that bowr,
For fear they do you fell.’

47

‘O haud your tongue, my bonny boy,
For I winna be said nay;
But I will gang that bowr within,
Betide me well or wae.’

48

They've lighted off their milk-white steeds,
An saftly enterd in,
An there they saw her White Lilly,
Nursing her bonny yong son.

49

‘Now, by the rood,’ the king coud say,
‘This is a comely sight;
I trow, instead of a forrester's man,
This is a lady bright!’

50

Then out it spake her Rose the Red,
An fell low down on her knee:
O pardon us, my gracious liege,
An our story I'll tell thee.

51

Our father was a wealthy lord,
That wond in Barnsdale;
But we had a wicked step-mother,
That wrought us meickle bale.

52

Yet she had twa as fu fair sons
As ever the sun did see,
An the tane o them lood my sister dear,
An the tither sayd he lood me.

53

Then out it spake him Bold Arthur,
As by the king he stood:
Now, by the faith o my body,
This shoud be Rose the Red!

54

Then in it came him Brown Robin,
Frae hunting o the deer,
But whan he saw the king was there,
He started back for fear.

55

The king has taen him by the hand,
An bade him naithing dread;
Says, Ye maun leave the good green wood,
Come to the court wi speed.

56

Then up he took White Lilly's son,
An set him on his knee;
Says, Gin ye live to wiald a bran,
My bowman ye sall bee.

57

The king he sent for robes of green,
An girdles o shinning gold;
He gart the ladies be arrayd
Most comely to behold.

420

58

They've done them unto Mary Kirk,
An there gat fair wedding,
An fan the news spread oer the lan,
For joy the bells did ring.

59

Then out it spake her Rose the Red,
An a hearty laugh laugh she:
I wonder what would our step-dame say,
Gin she this sight did see!

Rose the Red and White Lillie

ROSE THE RED AND WHITE LILY—B

[_]

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 67.

1

Now word is gane thro a' the land,
Gude seal that it sae spread!
To Rose the Red and White Lillie,
Their mither dear was dead.

2

Their father's married a bauld woman,
And brought her ower the sea,
Twa sprightly youths, her ain young sons,
Intill her companie.

3

They fixd their eyes on those ladies,
On shipboard as they stood,
And sware, if ever they wan to land,
These ladies they woud wed.

4

But there was nae a quarter past,
A quarter past but three,
Till these young luvers a' were fond
O other's companie.

5

The knights they harped i their bower,
The ladies sewd and sang;
There was mair mirth in that chamer
Than a' their father's lan.

6

Then out it spak their step-mither,
At the stair-foot stood she:
I'm plagued wi your troublesome noise!
What makes your melodie?

7

O Rose the Red, ye sing too loud,
White Lillie, your voice is strang;
But gin I live and brook my life,
I'se gar you change your sang.

8

‘We maunna change our loud, loud song
For nae duke's son ye'll bear;
We winna change our loud, loud song,
But aye we'll sing the mair.

9

‘We never sung the sang, mither,
But we'll sing ower again;
We'll take our harps into our hands,
And we'll harp, and we'll sing.’

10

She's calld upon her twa young sons,
Says, Boun ye for the sea;
Let Rose the Red and White Lillie
Stay in their bower wi me.

11

‘O God forbid,’ said her eldest son,
‘Nor lat it ever be,
Unless ye were as kind to our luves
As gin we were them wi.’

12

‘Yet never the less, my pretty sons,
Ye'll boun you for the faem;
Let Rose the Red and White Lillie
Stay in their bowers at hame.’

13

‘O when wi you we came alang,
We felt the stormy sea,
And where we go, ye neer shall know,
Nor shall be known by thee.’

14

Then wi her harsh and boisterous word
She forc'd these lads away,
While Rose the Red and White Lillie
Still in their bowers did stay.

15

But there was not a quarter past,
A quarter past but ane,
Till Rose the Red in rags she gaed,
White Lillie's claithing grew thin.

16

Wi bitter usage every day,
The ladies they thought lang;
‘Ohon, alas!’ said Rose the Red,
‘She's gard us change our sang.

17

‘But we will change our own fu names,
And we'll gang frae the town,
Frae Rose the Red and White Lillie
To Nicholas and Roger Brown.

18

‘And we will cut our green claithing
A little aboon our knee,

421

And we will on to gude greenwood,
Twa bauld bowmen to be.’

19

‘Ohon, alas!’ said White Lillie,
‘My fingers are but sma,
And tho my hands woud wield the bow,
They winna yield at a'.’

20

‘O had your tongue now, White Lillie,
And lat these fears a' be;
There's naething that ye're awkward in
But I will learn thee.’

21

Then they are on to gude greenwood,
As fast as gang coud they;
O then they spied him Robin Hood,
Below a green aik tree.

22

‘Gude day, gude day, kind sir,’ they said,
‘God make you safe and free:’
‘Gude day, gude day,’ said Robin Hood,
‘What is your wills wi me?’

23

‘Lo here we are, twa banishd knights,
Come frae our native hame;
We're come to crave o thee service,
Our king will gie us nane.’

24

‘If ye be twa young banishd knights,
Tell me frae what countrie:’
‘Frae Anster town into Fifeshire;
Ye know it as well as we.’

25

‘If a' be true that ye hae said,
And tauld just now to me,
Ye're welcome, welcome, every one;
Your master I will be.

26

‘Now ye shall eat as I do eat,
And lye as I do lye;
Ye salna wear nae waur claithing
Nor my young men and I.’

27

Then they went to a ruinous house,
And there they enterd in,
And Nicholas fed wi Robin Hood,
And Roger wi Little John.

28

But it fell ance upon a day
They were at the putting-stane,
Whan Rose the Red she viewd them a',
As they stood on the green.

29

She hit the stane then wi her foot,
And kepd it wi her knee,
And spaces three aboon them a'
I wyte she gard it flee.

30

She sat her back then to a tree,
And gae a loud Ohon!
A lad spak in the companie,
I hear a woman's moan.

31

‘How know you that, young man?’ she said,
‘How know you that o me?
Did eer ye see me in that place
Ae foot my ground to flee?

32

‘Or know ye by my cherry cheeks?
Or by my yellow hair?
Or by the paps on my breast-bane?
Ye never saw them bare.’

33

‘I know not by your cherry cheeks,
Nor by your yellow hair;
But I know by your milk-white chin,
On it there grows nae hair.

34

‘I never saw you in that cause
Ae foot your ground to flee;
I've seen you stan wi sword in han
Mang men's blood to the knee.

35

‘But if I come your bower within,
By night, or yet by day,
I shall know before I go
If ye be man or may.’

36

‘O if you come my bower within,
By night, or yet by day,
As soon's I draw my trusty brand,
Nae lang ye'll wi me stay.’

37

But he is haunted to her bower,
Her bigly bower o stane,
Till he has got her big wi bairn,
And near sax months she's gane.

38

Whan three mair months were come and gane,
They gaed to hunt the hynde;
She wont to be the foremost ane,
But now stayd far behynd.

39

Her luver looks her in the face,
And thus to her said he;

422

I think your cheeks are pale and wan;
Pray, what gaes warst wi thee?

40

O want ye roses to your breast?
Or ribbons to your sheen?
Or want ye as muckle o dear bought luve
As your heart can conteen?

41

‘I want nae roses to my breast,
Nae ribbons to my sheen;
Nor want I as muckle dear bought luve
As my heart can conteen.

42

‘I'd rather hae a fire behynd,
Anither me before,
A gude midwife at my right side,
Till my young babe be bore.’

43

‘I'll kindle a fire wi a flint-stane,
Bring wine in a green horn;
I'll be midwife at your right side,
Till your young babe be born.’

44

‘That was neer my mither's custom,
Forbid that it be mine!
A knight stan by a lady bright
Whan she drees a' her pine.

45

‘There is a knight in gude greenwood,
If that he kent o me,
Thro stock and stane and the hawthorn
Sae soon's he woud come me tee.’

46

‘If there be a knight in gude greenwood
Ye like better than me,
If ance he come your bower within,
Ane o us twa shall dee.’

47

She set a horn to her mouth,
And she blew loud and shrill;
Thro stock and stane and the hawthorn
Brave Roger came her till.

48

‘Wha's here sae bauld,’ the youth replied,
‘Thus to encroach on me?’
‘O here I am,’ the knight replied,
‘Hae as much right as thee.’

49

Then they fought up the gude greenwood,
Sae did they down the plain;
They niddart ither wi lang braid-swords,
Till they were bleedy men.

50

Then out it spak the sick woman,
Sat under the greenwood tree;
O had your han, young man, she said,
She's a woman as well as me.

51

Then out it speaks anither youth,
Amang the companie;
Gin I had kent what I ken now,
'Tis for her I woud dee.

52

‘O wae mat worth you, Rose the Red,
An ill death mat ye dee!
Altho ye tauld upo yoursell,
Ye might hae heald on me.’

53

‘O for her sake I was content
For to gae ower the sea;
For her I left my mither's ha,
Tho she proves fause to me.’

54

But whan these luvers were made known,
They sung right joyfullie,
Nae blyther was the nightingale,
Nor bird that sat on tree.

55

Now they hae married these ladies,
Brought them to bower and ha;
And now a happy life they lead;
I wish sae may we a'.

The Wedding of Robin Hood and Little John

ROSE THE RED AND WHITE LILY—C

[_]

Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, annotated by the editor, p. 69.

1

The king has wedded an ill woman,
Into some foreign land;
His daughters twa, that stood in awe,
They bravely sat and sang.

2

Then in became their step-mother,
Sae stately stepping ben:
‘O gin I live and bruik my life,
I'll gar ye change your tune.’

3

‘O we sang neer that sang, ladie,
But we will sing again;

423

And ye neer boor that son, ladie,
We wad lay our love on.

4

‘But we will cow our yellow locks
A little abune our bree,
And we will on to gude greenwud,
And serve for meat and fee.

5

‘And we will kilt our gay claithing
A little below the knee,
And we will on to gude greenwud,
Gif Robin Hood we see.

6

‘And we will change our ain twa names,
When we gae frae the toun;
The tane we will call Nicholas,
The tither Rogee Roun.’

7

Then they hae cowd their yellow locks
A little abune their bree,
And they are on to gude greenwud,
To serve for meat and fee.

8

And they hae kilt their gay claithing
A little below their knee,
And they are on to gud greenwud,
Gif Robin Hood they see.

9

And they hae chang'd thair ain twa names,
Whan they gaed frae the toun;
The tane they've called Nicholas,
The tither Rogee Roun.

10

And they hae staid in gude greenwud,
And never a day thoucht lang,
Till it fell ance upon a day
That Rogee sang a sang.

11

‘Whan we were in our father's bouer,
We sewd the silken seam;
But now we walk the gude greenwud,
And bear anither name.

12

‘When we were in our father's ha,
We wore the beaten gold;
But now we wear the shield sae sharp;
Alas, we'll die with cold!’

13

Then up bespak him Robin Hood,
As he to them drew near:
‘Instead of boys to carry the bow,
Two ladies we've got here.’

14

So they had not been in gud greenwud
A twalmonth and a day,
Till Rogee Roun was as big wi bairn
As onie lady could gae.

15

‘O wae be to my stepmother,
That garrd me leave my hame!
For I'm wi bairn to Robin Hood,
And near nine month is gane.

16

‘O wha will be my bouer-woman?
Na bouer-woman is here;
O wha will be my bouer-woman,
Whan that sad time draws near?’

17

Then up bespak him Robin Hood,
At the foot o yon greenwud tree:
O hold your tongue, fair Rogee Roun,
For married ye sall be.

18

The tane was wedded to Robin Hood,
And the tither to Little John;
And it was a' owing to their stepmother,
That garrd them leave their hame.

424

104
PRINCE HEATHEN

The Disconsolate Lady

PRINCE HEATHEN—A

[_]

The Jovial Rake's Garland, n. d., p. 6, No 4, Bodleian Library, Douce PP, 164.

1

Lady Margery May sits in her bower,
Sewing at her seem;
By there comes a heathen knight,
From her her maidenhead has tane.

2

He has put her in a tower strong,
With double locks on fifty doors:
‘Lady Margery May, will you ga now?’
‘O ye heathen knight, not yet for you.

3

‘I am asking, you heathen knight;
What I am asking will you grant to me?
Will ye let one of your waitmen
A drink of your well bring to me?’

4

‘Meat nor drink you shall never get,
Nor out of that shall you never come,

425

Meat nor drink shall you never get,
Until you bear to me daughter or son.’

5

Thus time drew on, and further on,
For travail came this young lady to;
She travailed up, so did she down,
But lighter could she never be.

6

‘An asking, an asking, you heathen knight;
An asking will you grant to me?
Will you give me a scread of silk,
For to row your young son wi?’

7

He took the horse-sheet in his hand,
The tears came twinkling down:
‘Lady Margaret May, will ye ga now?’
‘O ye heathen knight, not yet for you.’

8

‘I'll wash my young son with the milk,
I will dry my young son with the silk;
For hearts will break, and bands will bow;
So dear will I love my lady now!’

Prince Heathen

PRINCE HEATHEN—B

[_]

Buchan's MSS, I, 97; Motherwell's MS., p. 665.

1

Lady Margaret sat in her bower-door,
Sewing at her silken seem,
When by it came Prince Heathen then,
An gae to her a gay gold ring.

2

He turnd about, an gied a bow;
She said, Begone, I love na you;
When he sware by his yellow hair
That he woud gar her greet fu sair.

3

But she sware by her milk-white skin
Prince Heathen shoud gar her greet nane:
‘O bonny may, winna ye greet now?’
‘Ye heathenish dog, nae yet for you.’

4

He's taen her in his arms twa,
Laid her between him an the wa,
An ere he let her free again,
Her maidenhead frae her he's taen.
‘O bonny may, winna ye greet now?’
‘Ye heathenish dog, nae yet for you.’

5

‘I killd your father in his bed,
And your gay mother by his side,
And your seven brothers, ane by ane,
And they were seven pretty men.
O bonny may, winna ye greet now?’
‘Ye heathenish dog, nae yet for you.’

6

‘I'll put you in a vault o stone,
Where five an thirty locks hing on;
Naebody there then shall you see,
For I will keep the keys wi me.
O bonny may, winna ye greet now?’
‘Ye heathenish dog, nae yet for you.’

7

He's put her in a vault o stone,
Where five an thirty locks hing on;
Naebody there coud eer her see,
Prince Heathen kept the keys him wi.
But ae she cried, What shall I do!
The heathenish dog has gart me rue.

8

Prince Heathen from the mountains came,
Attended by his armed men,
And he's gane to the bonny may,
And to the prison where she lay:
‘O bonny may, what do you now?’
‘Ye heathenish dog, dying for you.’

9

‘I'll take you out upon the green,
Where women ye shall neer see ane,
But only me and my young men,
Till ye bring daughter hame or son.
O bonny may, what do you now?’
‘Ye heathenish dog, dying for you.’

10

He's taen her out upon the green,
Where she saw women never ane,
But only him and's merry young men,
Till she brought hame a bonny young son.
‘O bonny may, what do you now?’
‘Ye heathenish dog, dying for you.

11

‘A drink, a drink, frae Prince Heathen's hand,
Though it were frae yon cauld well strong!’
‘O neer a drap, Prince Heathen,’ said one,
‘Till ye row up your bonny young son.’
‘How can I row up my bonny young son,
When I hae naething to row him in?’

12

‘I will lend you my horse's sheet,
That will row him baith head and feet.’
As soon's she took it in her han,

426

Tears oer her cheeks down rapping ran.
‘O bonny may, ye do greet now:’
‘Ye heathenish dog, but nae for you.

13

‘But a' is for my bonny young son;
Your sheets are rough to row him in;
Ohon, alas, sair may I rue
That eer I saw such rogues as you!’

14

‘Ye'll row my young son in the silk,
An ye will wash him wi the milk,
An lay my lady very saft,
That I may see her very aft.’
When hearts are broken, bands will bow;
Sae well's he loved his lady now!

105
THE BAILIFF'S DAUGHTER OF ISLINGTON

THE BAILIFF'S DAUGHTER OF ISLINGTON

[_]

a. Printed for P. Brooksby, Roxburghe Ballads, II, 457. b. Printed for J. Walter, Douce Ballads, II, fol. 229. c. Printed for P. Brooksby, Pepys Ballads, III, 258, No 256. d. Printed for P. Brooksby, Roxburghe Ballads, IV, 56. e. Printed for P. Brooksby, Douce Ballads, II, fol. 230. f. An Aldermary Churchyard copy.


427

1

There was a youth, and a well belovd youth,
And he was a esquire's son,
He loved the bayliff's daughter dear,
That lived in Islington.

2

She was coy, and she would not believe
That he did love her so,
No, nor at any time she would
Any countenance to him show.

3

But when his friends did understand
His fond and foolish mind,
They sent him up to fair London,
An apprentice for to bind.

4

And when he had been seven long years,
And his love he had not seen,
‘Many a tear have I shed for her sake
When she little thought of me.’

5

All the maids of Islington
Went forth to sport and play;
All but the bayliff's daughter dear;
She secretly stole away.

6

She put off her gown of gray,
And put on her puggish attire;
She's up to fair London gone,
Her true-love to require.

7

As she went along the road,
The weather being hot and dry,
There was she aware of her true-love,
At length came riding by.

8

She stept to him, as red as any rose,
And took him by the bridle-ring:
‘I pray you, kind sir, give me one penny,
To ease my weary limb.’

9

‘I prithee, sweetheart, canst thou tell me
Where that thou wast born?’
‘At Islington, kind sir,’ said she,
‘Where I have had many a scorn.’

10

‘I prithee, sweetheart, canst thou tell me
Whether thou dost know
The bailiff's daughter of Islington?’
‘She's dead, sir, long ago.’

11

‘Then will I sell my goodly steed,
My saddle and my bow;
I will into some far countrey,
Where no man doth me know.’

12

‘O stay, O stay, thou goodly youth!
She's alive, she is not dead;
Here she standeth by thy side,
And is ready to be thy bride.’

428

13

‘O farewel grief, and welcome joy,
Ten thousand times and more!
For now I have seen my own true-love,
That I thought I should have seen no more.’

106
THE FAMOUS FLOWER OF SERVING-MEN

THE FAMOUS FLOWER OF SERVING-MEN

[_]

a. Wood, E. 25, fol. 75, Bodleian Library. b. Pepys, III, 142, No 140, Magdalen College Library, Cambridge. c. A Collection of Old Ballads, I, 216, 1723.


430

1

You beautious ladies, great and small,
I write unto you one and all,
Whereby that you may understand
What I have suffered in this land.

2

I was by birth a lady fair,
My father's chief and onely heir,
But when my good old father dy'd,
Then was I made a young knight's bride.

3

And then my love built me a bower,
Bedeckt with many a fragrant flower;
A braver bower you never did see
Then my true-love did build for me.

4

But there came thieves late in the night,
They rob'd my bower, and slew my knight,
And after that my knight was slain,
I could no longer there remain.

5

My servants all from me did flye,
In the midst of my extremity,
And left me by my self alone,
With a heart more cold then any stone.

6

Yet, though my heart was full of care,
Heaven would not suffer me to despair;
Wherefore in hast I chang'd my name
From Fair Elise to Sweet William.

7

And therewithal I cut my hair,
And drest my self in man's attire,
My doublet, hose, and bever-hat,
And a golden band about my neck.

8

With a silver rapier by my side,
So like a gallant I did ride;
The thing that I delighted on,
Was for to be a serving-man.

9

Thus in my sumptuous man's array,
I bravely rode along the way;
And at the last it chanced so
That I unto the king's court did go.

10

Then to the king I bowed full low,
My love and duty for to show,
And so much favour I did crave
That I a serving-man's place might have.

431

11

‘Stand up, brave youth, the king replyd,
‘Thy service shall not be denyd;
But tell me first what thou canst do;
Thou shalt be fitted thereunto.

12

‘Wilt thou be usher of my hall,
To wait upon my nobles all?
Or wilt thou be taster of my wine,
To wait on me when I shall dine?

13

‘Or wilt thou be my chamberlain,
To make my bed both soft and fine?
Or wilt thou be one of my guard?
And I will give thee thy reward.’

14

Sweet William, with a smiling face,
Said to the king, If't please your grace
To show such favour unto me,
Your chamberlain I fain would be.

15

The king then did the nobles call,
To ask the counsel of them all,
Who gave consent Sweet William he
The king's own chamberlain should be.

16

Now mark what strange things came to pass:
As the king one day a hunting was,
With all his lords and noble train,
Sweet William did at home remain.

17

Sweet William had no company then
With him at home but an old man;
And when he saw the coast was clear,
He took a lute which he had there.

18

Upon the lute Sweet William plaid,
And to the same he sung and said,
With a pleasant and most noble voice,
Which made the old man to rejoyce:

19

‘My father was as brave a lord
As ever Europe did afford;
My mother was a lady bright,
My husband was a valiant knight.

20

‘And I my self a lady gay,
Bedeckt with gorgeous rich array;
The bravest lady in the land
Had not more pleasures to command.

21

‘I had my musick every day,
Harmonious lessons for to play;
I had my virgins fair and free,
Continually to wait on me.

22

‘But now, alas! my husband's dead,
And all my friends are from me fled;
My former joys are past and gone,
For now I am a serving-man.’

23

At last the king from hunting came,
And presently upon the same
He called for the good old man,
And thus to speak the king began.

24

‘What news, what news, old man?’ quod he;
‘What news hast thou to tell to me?’
‘Brave news,’ the old man he did say;
‘Sweet William is a lady gay.’

25

‘If this be true thou tellest me
I'le make thee a lord of high degree;
But if thy words do prove a lye,
Thou shalt be hanged up presently.’

26

But when the king the truth had found,
His joys did more and more abound;
According as the old man did say,
Sweet William was a lady gay.

27

Therefore the king without delay
Put on her glorious rich array,
And upon her head a crown of gold,
Which was most famous to behold.

28

And then, for fear of further strife,
He took Sweet William for his wife;
The like before was never seen,
A serving-man to be a queen.

432

107
WILL STEWART AND JOHN


433

Will Stewart and Iohn

WILL STEWART AND JOHN—A

[_]

Percy MS., p. 428; Hales and Furnivall, III, 216.

1

Adlatts parke is wyde and broad,
And grasse growes greene in our countrye;
Eche man can gett the loue of his ladye,
But alas, I can gett none of mine!

2

Itt's by two men I sing my song,
Their names is William Stewart and Iohn;
William he is the elder brother,
But Iohn hee is the wiser man.

3

But William he is in care-bed layd,
And for the loue of a ffaire ladye;
If he haue not the loue of the Erle of Mar's daughter,
In ffaith ffor loue that he must dye.

4

Then Iohn was sorry ffor his brother,
To see him lye and languish soe:
‘What doe you mourne for, brother?’ he saies,
‘I pray you tell to me your woe.

5

‘Doe [you] mourne for gold, brother?’ he saies,
‘Or doe you mourne ffor ffee?
Or doe you mourne for a likesome ladye,
You neuer saw her with your eye?’

6

‘I doe not mourne for gold,’ he saies,
‘Nor I doe not mourne for any ffee;
But I doe mourne for a likesome ladye,
I neere blinke on her with mine eye.’

7

‘But when haruest is gotten, my deere brother —
All this is true that I tell thee —
Gentlemen, they loue hunting well,
And giue wight-men their cloth and ffee.

8

‘Then I'le goe a wooing ffor thy sake,
In all the speed that I can gone,
And for to see this likesome ladye,
And hope to send thee good tydings home.’

9

Iohn Stewart is gone a wooing for his brother,
Soe ffarr into ffaire Scottland,
And left his brother in mikle ffeare,
Vntill he heard the good tydand.

10

And when he came to the Erle of Mar's his house,
Soe well he could his curtesye,
And when he came before the erle,
He kneeled low downe vpon his knee.

11

‘O rise vp, rise vp, Iohn Steward,
Rise vp, now, I doe bidd thee;
How doth thy ffather, Iohn Stewart,
And all the lords in his countrye?’

434

12

‘And itt please you, my lord, my ffather is dead;
My brother and I cannott agree;
My brother and I am ffallen att discord,
And I am come to craue a service of thee.’

13

‘O welcome, welcome, Iohn Stewart,
A welcome man thou art to me;
I'le make thee chamberlaine to my daughter,
And ffor to tend of that ladye soe ffree.

14

‘And if thou wilt haue a better office,
Aske, and thou shall haue itt of mee;
And where I giue other men a penny of wage,
Inffaith, Iohn, thou shalt haue three.’

15

And then bespake him Iohn Stewart,
And these were the words said hee:
There is no office in your court
This day that better pleaseth mee.

16

The Ffryday is gone, the Sunday is come —
All this is true that I doe say —
And to the church that they be gone,
Iohn Stewart and the lady gay.

17

And as they did come home againe —
I-wis itt was a meeten mile —
Iohn Stewart and the lady gay,
They thought itt but a [little] while.

18

‘I am a messenger, ladye,’ he saies,
‘I am a messenger to thee:’
‘O speake ffor thy selfe, Iohn Stewart,’ shee saies,
‘A welcome man that thou shalt bee.’

19

‘Nay, by my ffaith,’ saies Iohn Stewart,
‘Which euer, alas, that may not bee!
He hath a higher degree in honour,
Allas, ladye, then euer I!

20

‘He is a lord now borne by birth,
And an erle affter his ffather doth dye;
His haire is yellow, his eyes beene gray;
All this is true that I tell yee.

21

‘He is ffine in the middle, and small in the wast,
And pleasant in a woman's eye;
And more nor this, he dyes for your loue,
Therefore, lady, show some pittye.’

22

‘If this be soe,’ then saies the lady,
‘If this be true that thou tells mee,
By my ffaith then, Iohn Stewart,
I can loue him hartilye.

23

‘Bidd him meete me att St Patr[i]cke's Church
On Sunday after St Andrew's day;
The fflower of Scottland will be there,
And then begins our summer's play.

24

‘And bidd him bring with him a hundred gunners,
And rawnke ryders lett them bee,
And lett them bee of the rankest ryders
That be to be ffound in that countrye.

25

‘They best and worst, and all in like,
Bidd him cloth them in one liuerye;
And ffor his men, greene is the best,
And greene now lett their liueryes bee.

26

‘And clothe himselfe in scarlett redd,
That is soe seemlye ffor to see;
Ffor scarlett is a ffaire coulour,
And pleasant allwayes in a woman's eye.

27

‘He must play sixteene games att ball,
Against the men of this countrye,
And if he winn the greater part,
Then I shall love him more tenderlye.’

28

What the lady said, Iohn Stewart writt,
And to Argyle Castle sent it hee;
And [when] Willie Steward saw the letter,
Fforth of care-bed then lope hee.

29

Hee mustered together his merry men all,
Hee mustered them soe louelilye;
Hee thought hee had had scarson halfe a hundred,
Then had hee eleuen score and three.

30

He chose fforth a hundred of the best
That were to be ffound in that countrye,
He cladd them all in one coulour,
And greene i-wis their liueryes bee.

31

He cladd himselfe in scarlett redd,
That is soe seemelye ffor to see;
Ffor scarlett is a ffaire coulor,
And seemlye in a woman's eye.

435

32

And then towards Patricke Church he went,
With all his men in braue array,
To gett a sight, if he might,
And speake with his lady gay.

33

When they came to Patricke's churche,
Shee kneeled downe by her mother trulye:
‘O mother, if itt please you to giue me leaue,
The Stewart's horsse ffaine wold I see.’

34

‘I'le giue you leaue, my deere daughter,
And I and my maide will goe with yee:’
The lady had rather haue gone her selfe
Then haue had her mother's companye.

35

When they came before Willie Steward,
Soe well hee cold his curtesye:
‘I wold kisse your daughter, ladye,’ he said,
‘And if your will that soe itt bee.’

36

The ladye's mother was content
To doe a straunger that curtesye;
And when Willie had gotten a kisse,
I-wis shee might haue teemed him three.

37

Sixteen games were plaid that day there —
This is the truth as I doe say —
Willie Stewart and his merry men,
Thé carryed twelue of them away.

38

And when they games that they were done,
And all they ffolkes away were gone
But the Erle of Marr and William Stewart,
The erle wold needs haue William home.

39

And when they came vnto the erle's howse,
They walked to a garden greene;
Ffor to confferr of their bussines,
Into the garden they be gone.

40

‘I loue your daughter,’ saies William Stewart,
‘But I cannott tell whether she loueth mee:’
‘Marry, God defend,’ saies the Erle of Mar,
‘That euer soe that itt shold bee!

41

‘I had rather a gallowes there was made,
And hange thee ffor my daughter's sake;
I had rather a ffyer were made att a stake,
And burne thee ffor my daughter's sake!

42

‘To chamber, to chamber, gay ladye,’ he saies,
‘In the deuill's name now I bidd thee!
And thou gett thee not to the chamber soone,
I'le beate thee before the Stewart's eye.’

43

And then bespake William Stewart,
These were the words said hee:
‘If thou beate thy daughter for my sake,
Thou'st beate a hundred men and mee.’

44

Then bespake Iohn Stewart —
Lord! an angry man was hee —
‘O churle, if thou wouldest not haue macht with my brother,
Thou might haue answerd him curteouslye.’

45

‘O hold thy peace, Iohn Stewart,
And chamber thy words now, I bidd thee;
If thou chamber not thy words soone,
Thou'st loose a good service; soe shalt thou doe me.’

46

‘Marry! hang them that cares,’ saies Iohn Stewart,
‘Either ffor thy service or ffor thee;
Services can I haue enoughe,
But brethren wee must euer bee.’

47

William Stewart and his brother Iohn,
To Argyle Castle gon they bee;
And when Willye came to Argyle Castle,
Into care-bedd then lope hee.

48

A parlaiment att Edenborrow was made,
The king and his nobles all mett there;
Thé sent ffor William Stewart and Iohn,
To come amongst the other peeres.

49

Their clothing was of scarlett redd,
That was soe seemelye ffor to see;
Blacke hatts, white ffeathers plewed with gold,
And sett all on their heads trulye.

50

Their stockings were of twisted silke,
With garters ffringed about with gold;
Their shoes were of the cordevine,
And all was comelye to behold.

51

And when they came to Edenborrowe,
They called ffor Iohn Stewart and Willie:
‘I answer in a lord's roome,’ saies Will Stewart,
‘But an erle I hope to bee.’

436

52

‘Come downe, come downe,’ saies the Lord of Marr,
‘I knew not what was thy degree:’
‘O churle, if I might not haue macht with thy daughter,
Itt had not beene long of my degree.

53

‘My ffather, hee is the king his brother,
And then the king is vnckle to me;
O churle, if I might not haue macht with thy daughter,
Itt had not beene long of my degree.’

54

‘O hold your peace,’ then sayd the king,
‘Cozen William, I doe bidd thee;
Infaith, cozen William, he loues you the worsse
Because you are a-kinn to mee.

55

‘I'le make thee an erle with a siluer wande,
And adde more honors still to thee;
Thy brother Ihon shall be a lord,
Of the best att home in his countrye.

56

‘Thy brother Kester shalbe a knight,
Lands and liuings I will him giue,
And still hee shall liue in court with mee,
And I'le maintaine him whilest he doth liue.’

57

And when the parlaiment was done,
And all the ffolkes away were gone,
Willye Stewart and Iohn his brother,
To Argyle Castle they be gone.

58

But when they came to Argyle Castle,
That was soe ffarr in that countrye,
He thought soe much then of his loue
That into care-bedd then lope hee.

59

Iohn Stewart did see his brother soe ill,
Lord, in his heart that hee was woe!
‘I will goe wooing for thy sake
Againe yonder gay ladye to.

60

‘I'le cloth my selfe in strange array,
In a beggar's habbitt I will goe,
That when I come before the Erle of Marr
My clothing strange he shall not knowe.’

61

Iohn hee gott on a clouted cloake,
Soe meete and low then by his knee,
With four garters vpon one legg,
Two aboue, and towe below trulye.

62

‘But if thou be a beggar, brother,
Thou art a beggar that is vnknowne;
Ffor thou art one of the stoutest beggars
That euer I saw since I was borne.

63

‘Heere, geeue the lady this gay gold ringe,
A token to her that well is knowne;
And if shee but aduise itt well,
Shee'le know some time itt was her owne.’

64

‘Stay, by my ffaith, I goe not yett,’
Iohn Stewart he can replye;
‘I'le haue my bottle ffull of beere,
The best that is in thy butterye.

65

‘I'le haue my sachell ffilld full of meate,
I am sure, brother, [it] will doe noe harme;
Ffor, before I come to the Erle of Marr's his house,
My lipps, I am sure, they wilbe warme.’

66

And when he came to the Erle of Marr's house,
By chance itt was of the dole-day;
But Iohn cold ffind no place to stand,
Vntill he came to the ladye gaye.

67

But many a beggar he threw downe,
And made them all with weeping say,
He is the devill, hee is no beggar,
That is come fforth of some strange countrye.

68

And now the dole that itt is delte,
And all the beggars be gon away,
Sauing Iohn Stewart, that seemed a beggar,
And the ladye that was soe gay.

69

‘Lady,’ sais Iohn, ‘I am no beggar,
As by my clothes you may thinke that I bee;
I am your servant, Iohn Stewart,
And I am sent a messenger to thee.’

70

‘But if thou be Iohn Stewart,
As I doe thinke that thou bee,
Avayle thy capp, avayle thy hoode,
And I will stand and speake to thee.

71

‘How doth thy brother, Iohn Stewart,
And all the lords in his countrye?’

437

‘O ffye vpon thee, wicked woman!
My brother he doth the worsse ffor thee.’

72

With that the teares stood in her eyes;
O lord, shee wept soe tenderlye!
Sais, Ligg the blame vnto my ffather;
I pray you, Iohn Stewart, lay itt not to mee.

73

Comend me to my owne true-loue,
That liues soe farr in the North countrye,
And bidd him meete me att Martingsdale,
Ffullye w[i]thin these dayes three.

74

Hang them, sais the lady gay,
That letts their ffather witting bee!
I'le proue a ladye ffull of loue,
And be there by the sunn be a quarter highe.

75

And bidd him bring with him a hundred gunners,
And ranke riders lett them bee;
Lett them be of the rankest ryders
That be to be ffound in that countrye.

76

The best and worse, and all in like,
Bidd him clothe them in one liuerye;
And for his men, greene is the best,
And greene now lett their lyueryes bee.

77

And cloth himselfe in scarlett redd,
That is soe seemelye for to see;
For scarlett is a ffaire coulor,
And pleasant in a woman's eye.

78

What they lady sayd, Iohn Stewart writt,
To Argyle Castle sent itt hee;
His bagg and his dish and showing horne,
Unto three beggars he gaue them all three.

79

And when Willie Stewart saw the letter,
Fforth of care-bed then lope hee;
He thought himselfe as lustye and sound
As any man in that countrye.

80

He mustered together his merrymen all,
He mustered them soe louinglye;
He thought he had had scarce halfe a hundred,
Then had hee eleuen score and three.

81

He chose fforth a hundred of the best
That were to be found in that companye,
And presentlye they tooke their horsse,
And to Martingsdale posted hee.

82

And when he came to Martingsdale,
He found his loue staying there trulye,
For shee was a lady true of loue,
And was there by [the] sunn was a qwarter highe.

83

Shee kisst William Stewart and his brother Iohn,
Soe did shee part of his merry men:
‘If the churle, thy ffather, hee were here,
He shold not haue thee backe againe.’

84

They sent ffor preist, they sent ffor clarke,
And they were marryed there with speede;
William tooke the lady home with him,
And they liued together long time indeed.

85

And in twelue monthe soe they wrought,
The lady shee was great with childe;
Thé sent Iohn Stewart to the Erle off Marre,
To come and christen the barne soe milde.

86

‘And if this be soe,’ sayes the Erle of Marre,
‘Iohn Stewart, as thou tells mee,
I hope in God you haue marryed my daughter,
And put her bodye to honestye.’

87

‘Nay, by my ffaith,’ then saies Iohn Stewart,
‘Ffor euer alas that shall not bee;
Ffor now wee haue put her body to shame,
Thou'st haue her againe hame to thee.’

88

‘I had rather make thee Erle of Marre,
And marry my daughter vnto thee;
For by my ffaith,’ sais the Erle of Marr,
‘Her marryage is marrd in our countrye.’

89

‘If this be soe,’ then sais Iohn Stewart,
‘A marryage soone that thou shalt see;
Ffor my brother William, my ffather's heyre,
Shall marry thy daughter before thine eye.’

90

They sent ffor preist, thé sent ffor clarke,
And marryed there they were with speed;
And William Stewart is Erle of Marr,
And his ffather-in-law dwells with him indeed.

438

Tring Dilly

WILL STEWART AND JOHN—B

[_]

Campbell MSS, II, 30.

1

Speak for yoursell, John Stewart,’ he did say,
‘Speak for yoursell, John Stewart,’ he did say,
‘Speak for yoursell, John Stewart,’ he did say,
‘And soon an answer I will gie to thee;
The highest service I can give thee
Is to wait on my daughter Ailly.

2

[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
If ever I gie a man a penny wage,
I'm sure, John Stewart, ye shall hae three.’

3

‘I speak not for mysell,’ John Stewart he did say,
‘I speak for a lord of a higher degree;
The message is from my brother William,
Your loving daugher's husband to be.’

4

[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
I'll rather beat fair Ailly in my leather bang,
As lang as she can either stand or gang.’

5

[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
‘Ye hadna beat her before my face
Or ye'll beat three hundred men and me.’

6

When William came to Mulbery Hall,
He kissd the ladies one and all;
But when he cam to fair Ailly,
She thought he might hae gaen her twa or three.

7

Between the kitchen and the garden
It is calld a measured mile;
That lady and that lord fell into discourse,
And they thought they rode it in a short while.
Chorus:
Tring dilly, tring dilly, tring ding dido,
Tring dilly, tring dilly, dolo dee.

439

108
CHRISTOPHER WHITE

Christopher White

CHRISTOPHER WHITE

[_]

Percy MS., p. 513; Hales and Furnivall, III, 494.

1

As I walked fforth one morninge,
By one place that pleased mee,
Wherin I heard a wandering wight,
Sais, Christopher White is good companye.

2

I drew me neere, and very neere,
Till I was as neere as neere cold bee;
Loth I was her councell to discreene,
Because I wanted companye.

3

‘Say on, say on, thou well faire mayd,
Why makest thou moane soe heauilye?’
Sais, All is ffor one wandering wight,
Is banished fforth of his owne countrye.

4

‘I am the burgesse of Edenburrow,
Soe am I more of townes three;
I haue money and gold great store,
Come, sweet wench, and ligg thy loue on mee.’

5

The merchant pulled forth a bagg of gold
Which had hundreds two or three;
Sais, Euery day throughout the weeke
I'le comt as much downe on thy knee.

6

‘O merchant, take thy gold againe,
A good liuing't will purchase thee;
If I be ffalse to Christopher White,
Merchant, I cannott be true to thee.’

7

Sais, I haue halls, soe haue I bowers,
Sais, I haue shipps sayling on the sea;
I ame the burgess of Edenburrowe;
Come, sweete wench, ligge thy loue on mee.

8

Come on, come, thou well faire mayde,
Of our matters lett vs goe throughe,
For to-morrowe I'le marry thee,
And thy dwelling shalbe in Edenburrough.

440

9

The lady shee tooke this gold in her hand,
The teares thé ffell ffast ffrom her eye;
Sais, Siluer and gold makes my hart to turne,
And makes me leaue good companye.

10

They had not beene marryed
Not ouer monthes two or three,
But tydings came to Edenburrowe
That all the merchants must to the sea.

11

Then as this lady sate in a deske,
Shee made a loue-letter ffull round;
She mad a lettre to Christopher White,
And in itt shee put a hundred pound.

12

She lin'd the letter with gold soe red,
And mony good store in itt was found;
Shee sent itt to Christopher White,
That was soe ffar in the Scotts ground.

13

Shee bade him then ffrankely spend,
And looke that hee shold merry bee,
And bid him come to Edenburrowe,
Now all the merchants be to the sea.

14

But Christopher came to leeue London,
And there he kneeled lowly downe,
And there hee begd his pardon then,
Of our noble king that ware the crowne.

15

But when he came to his true-loue's house,
Which was made both of lime and stone,
Shee tooke him by the lily-white hand,
Sais, True-loue, you are welcome home!

16

Welcome, my honey, welcome, my ioy,
Welcome, my true-loue, home to mee!
Ffor thou art hee that will lengthen my dayes,
And I know thou art good companye.

17

Christopher, I am a merchant's wiffe;
Christopher, the more shall be your gaine;
Siluer and gold you shall haue enough,
Of the merchant's gold that is in Spaine.

18

‘But if you be a merchant's wiffe,
Something tó much you are to blame;
I will thee reade a loue-letter
Shall sture thy stumpes, thou noble dame.

19

‘Althoug I be a marchant's wiffe,
[OMITTED] shall [OMITTED] mine
[OMITTED] and g [OMITTED]
Into England I'le goe with the.’

20

They packet vp both siluer and plate,
Siluer and gold soe great plentye,
And they be gon into Litle England,
And the marchant must them neuer see.

21

And when the merchants they came home,
Their wiues to eche other can say,
Heere hath beene good Christopher White,
And he hath tane thy wiffe away.

22

They haue packett vp spoone and plate,
Siluer and gold great plenty,
And they be gon into Litle England,
And them againe thow must neuer see.

23

‘I care nott ffor my siluer and gold,
Nor for my plate soe great plentye,
But I mourne for that like-some ladye
That Christopher White hath tane ffrom mee.

24

‘But one thing I must needs confesse,
This lady shee did say to me,
If shee were ffalse to Christopher White,
Shee cold neuer be true to mee.

25

‘All young men a warning take,
A warning, looke, you take by mee;
Looke that you loue your old loues best,
For infaith they are best companye.’

441

109
TOM POTTS


442

Thomas of Potte

TOM POTTS—A

[_]

Percy MS., p. 409; Hales and Furnivall, III, 135.

1

All you lords of Scottland ffaire,
And ladyes alsoe, bright of blee,
There is a ladye amongst them all,
Of her report you shall heare of me.

2

Of her bewtye shee is soe bright,
And of her colour soe bright of blee;
Shee is daughter to the Lord Arrndell,
His heyre apparrant ffor to bee.

3

‘I'le see that bryde,’ Lord Phenix sayes,
‘That is a ladye of hye degree,
And iff I like her countenance well,
The heyre of all my land shee'st bee.’

4

To that ladye ffayre Lord Phenix came,
And to that like-some dame said hee,
Now God thee saue, my ladye ffaire,
The heyre of all my land tho'st bee.

5

‘Leaue of your suite,’ the ladye sayd;
‘You are a lord of honor ffree;
You may gett ladyes enowe att home,
And I haue a loue in mine owne countrye.

6

‘I haue a louer true of mine owne,
A servinge-man of a small degree;
Thomas a Pott, itt is his name,
He is the ffirst loue that euer I had, and the last that hee shalbee.’

7

‘Giue Thomas a Pott then be his name,
I wott I ken him soe readilye;
I can spend forty pounds by weeke,
And hee cannott spend pounds three.’

8

‘God giue you good of your gold,’ said the ladye,
‘And alsoe, sir, of your ffee!
Hee was the ffirst loue that euer I had,
And the last, sir, shall hee bee.’

9

With that Lord Phenix was sore amoued;
Vnto her ffather then went hee;
Hee told her ffather how itt was proued,
How that his daughter's mind was sett.

10

‘Thou art my daughter,’ the Erle of Arrndell said,
‘The heyre of all my land to bee;
Thou'st be bryde to the Lord Phenix,
Daughter, giue thou'le be heyre to mee.’

11

For lacke of her loue this ladye must lose,
Her foolish wooing lay all aside;
The day is appoynted, and ffreinds are agreede;
Shee is fforcte to be the Lord Phenix bryde.

12

With that the lady began to muse —
A greeued woman, God wott, was shee —
How shee might Lord Phenix beguile,
And scape vnmarryed ffrom him that day.

13

Shee called to her her litle ffoote-page,
To Iacke her boy, soe tenderlye;
Sayes, Come thou hither, thou litle ffoote-page,
For indeed I dare trust none but thee.

14

To Strawberry Castle, boy, thou must goe,
To Thomas Pott there as hee can bee,
And giue him here this letter ffaire,
And on Guilford Greene bidd him meete me.

15

Looke thou marke his contenance well,
And his colour tell to mee;
And hye thee ffast, and come againe,
And forty shillings I will giue thee.

16

For if he blush in his fface,
Then in his hart hee'se sorry bee;
Then lett my ffather say what hee will,
For false to Potts I'le neuer bee.

17

And giue hee smile then with his mouth,
Then in his heart hee'le merry be;
Then may hee gett him a loue where-euer he can,
For small of his companye my part shalbe.

18

Then one while that the boy hee went,
Another while, God wott, rann hee,
And when hee came to Strawberry Castle,
There Thomas Potts hee see.

19

Then he gaue him this letter ffaire,
And when he began then for to reade,
They boy had told him by word of mouth
His loue must be the Lord Phenix bryde.

20

With that, Thomas a Pott began to blushe,
The teares trickeled in his eye:
‘Indeed this letter I cannot reede,
Nor neuer a word to see or spye.

443

21

‘I pray thee, boy, to me thou'le be trew,
And heer's fiue marke I will giue thee;
And all these words thou must peruse,
And tell thy lady this ffrom mee.

22

‘Tell her by ffaith and troth shee is mine owne,
By some part of promise, and soe itt's be found;
Lord Phenix shall neuer marry her, by night nor day,
Without he can winn her with his hand.

23

‘On Gilford Greene I will her meete,
And bidd that ladye ffor mee pray;
For there I'le loose my liffe soe sweete,
Or else the wedding I will stay.’

24

Then backe againe the boy he went,
As ffast againe as he cold hye;
The ladye mett him fiue mile on the way:
‘Why hast thou stayd soe long?’ saies shee.

25

‘Boy,’ said the ladye, ‘thou art but younge;
To please my mind thou'le mocke and scorne;
I will not beleeue thee on word of mouth,
Vnlesse on this booke thou wilt be sworne.’

26

‘Marry, by this booke,’ the boy can say,
‘As Christ himselfe be true to mee,
Thomas Pott cold not his letter reade
For teares trickling in his eye.’

27

‘If this be true,’ the ladye sayd,
‘Thou bonny boy, thou tells to mee,
Forty shillings I did thee promise,
But heere's ten pounds I'le giue itt thee.

28

‘All my maids,’ the lady sayd,
‘That this day doe waite on mee,
Wee will ffall downe vpon our knees,
For Thomas Pott now pray will wee.

29

‘If his ffortune be now ffor to winn —
Wee will pray to Christ in Trinytye —
I'le make him the fflower of all his kinn,
Ffor they Lord of Arrundale he shalbe.’

30

Now lett vs leaue talking of this ladye faire,
In her prayer good where shee can bee;
And I'le tell you hou Thomas Pott
For ayd to his lord and master came hee.

31

And when hee came Lord Iockye before,
He kneeled him low downe on his knee;
Saies, Thou art welcome, Thomas Pott,
Thou art allwayes full of thy curtesye.

32

Has thou slaine any of thy ffellowes,
Or hast thou wrought me some villanye?
‘Sir, none of my ffellowes I haue slaine,
Nor I haue wrought you noe villanye.

33

‘But I haue a loue in Scottland ffaire,
I doubt I must lose her through pouertye;
If you will not beleeue me by word of mouth,
Behold the letter shee writt vnto mee.’

34

When Lord Iockye looked the letter vpon,
The tender words in itt cold bee,
‘Thomas Pott, take thou no care,
Thou'st neuer loose her throughe pouertye.

35

‘Thou shalt have forty pounds a weeke,
In gold and siluer thou shalt rowe,
And Harbye towne I will thee allowe
As longe as thou dost meane to wooe.

36

‘Thou shalt haue fortye of thy ffellowes ffaire,
And forty horsse to goe with thee,
And forty speares of the best I haue,
And I my-selfe in thy companye.’

37

‘I thanke you, master,’ sayd Thomas Pott,
‘Neither man nor boy shall goe with mee;
I wold not ffor a thousand pounds
Take one man in my companye.’

38

‘Why then, God be with thee, Thomas Pott!
Thou art well knowen and proued for a man;
Looke thou shedd no guiltlesse bloode,
Nor neuer confound no gentlman.

39

‘But looke thou take with him some truce,
Apoint a place of lybertye;
Lett him provide as well as hee cann,
And as well provided thou shalt bee.’

40

And when Thomas Pott came to Gilford Greene,
And walked there a litle beside,
Then was hee ware of the Lord Phenix,
And with him Ladye Rozamund his bryde.

444

41

Away by the bryde rode Thomas of Pott,
But noe word to her that he did say;
But when he came Lord Phenix before,
He gaue him the right time of the day.

42

‘O thou art welcome, Thomas a Potts,
Thou serving-man, welcome to mee!
How ffares they lord and master att home,
And all the ladyes in thy cuntrye?’

43

‘Sir, my lord and my master is in verry good health,
I wott I ken itt soe readylye;
I pray you, will you ryde to one outsyde,
A word or towe to talke with mee.

44

‘You are a nobleman,’ sayd Thomas a Potts,
‘Yee are a borne lord in Scottland ffree;
You may gett ladyes enowe att home;
You shall neuer take my loue ffrom mee.’

45

‘Away, away, thou Thomas a Potts!
Thou seruing-man, stand thou a-side!
I wott there's not a serving-man this day,
I know, can hinder mee of my bryde.’

46

‘If I be but a seruing-man,’ sayd Thomas,
‘And you are a lord of honor ffree,
A speare or two I'le with you runn,
Before I'le loose her thus cowardlye.’

47

‘On Gilford Greene,’ Lord Phenix saies, ‘I'le thee meete;
Neither man nor boy shall come hither with mee;’
‘And as I am a man,’ said Thomas a Pott,
‘I'le haue as ffew in my companye.’

48

With that the wedding-day was stayd,
The bryde went vnmarryed home againe;
Then to her maydens ffast shee loughe,
And in her hart shee was ffull ffaine.

49

‘But all my mayds,’ they ladye sayd,
‘That this day doe waite on mee,
Wee will ffall downe againe vpon our knees,
For Thomas a Potts now pray will wee.

50

‘If his ffortune be ffor to winn —
Wee'le pray to Christ in Trynitye —
I'le make him the fflower of all his kinn,
For the Lord of Arrundale he shalbe.’

51

Now let vs leaue talking of this lady fayre,
In her prayers good where shee can bee;
I'le tell you the troth how Thomas a Potts
For aide to his lord againe came hee.

52

And when he came to Strawberry Castle,
To try ffor his ladye he had but one weeke;
Alacke, ffor sorrow hee cannott fforbeare,
For four dayes then he ffell sicke.

53

With that his lord and master to him came,
Sayes, I pray thee, Thomas, tell mee without all doubt,
Whether hast thou gotten the bonny ladye,
Or thou man gange the ladye withoute.

54

‘Marry, master, yett that matter is vntryde;
Within two dayes tryed itt must bee;
He is a lord, and I am but a seruing-man,
I doubt I must loose her through pouertye.’
‘Why, Thomas a Pott, take thou no care;
Thou'st neuer loose her through pouertye.

55

‘Thou shalt haue halfe my land a yeere,
And that will raise thee many a pound;
Before thou shalt loose thy bonny ladye,
Thou shalt drop angells with him to the ground.

56

‘And thou shalt haue forty of thy ffellowes ffaire,
And forty horsses to goe with thee,
And forty speres of the best I haue,
And I my-selfe in thy companye.’

57

‘I thanke you, master,’ sayd Thomas a Potts,
‘But of one thinge, sir, I wold be ffaine;
If I shold loose my bonny ladye,
How shall I increase your goods againe?’

58

‘Why, if thou winn thy lady ffaire,
Thou maye well fforth for to pay mee;
If thou loose thy lady, thou hast losse enoughe;
Not one penny I will aske thee.’

59

‘Master, you haue thirty horsses in one hold,
You keepe them ranke and royallye;
There's an old horsse, — for him you doe not care —
This day wold sett my lady ffree.

60

‘That is a white, with a cutt tayle,
Ffull sixteen yeeres of age is hee;

445

Giffe you wold lend me that old horsse,
Then I shold gett her easilye.’

61

‘Thou takes a ffoolish part,’ the Lord Iockye sayd,
‘And a ffoolish part thou takes on thee;
Thou shalt haue a better then euer he was,
That forty pounds cost more nor hee.’

62

‘O master, those horsses beene wild and wicked,
And litle they can skill of the old traine;
Giffe I be out of my saddle cast,
They beene soe wild they'le neuer be tane againe.

63

‘Lett me haue age, sober and wise;
Itt is a part of wisdome, you know itt plaine;
If I be out of my sadle cast,
Hee'le either stand still or turne againe.’

64

‘Thou shalt haue that horsse with all my hart,
And my cote-plate of siluer ffree,
And a hundred men att thy backe,
For to fight if neede shalbee.’

65

‘I thanke you, master,’ said Thomas a Potts,
‘Neither man nor boy shall goe with mee;
As you are a lord off honor borne,
Let none of my ffellowes know this of mee.

66

‘Ffor if they wott of my goinge,
I wott behind me they will not bee;
Without you keepe them vnder a locke,
Vppon that greene I shall them see.’

67

And when Thomas came to Gilford Greene,
And walked there some houres three,
Then was he ware of the Lord Phenix,
And four men in his companye.

68

‘You haue broken your vow,’ sayd Thomas a Pott,
‘Your vowe that you made vnto mee;
You said you wold come your selfe alone,
And you haue brought more then two or three.’

69

‘These are my waiting-men,’ Lord Phenix sayd,
‘That euery day doe waite on mee;
Giffe any of these shold att vs stirr,
My speare shold runn throwe his bodye.’

70

‘I'le runn noe race,’ said Thomas Potts,
‘Till that this othe heere made may bee:
If the one of vs be slaine,
The other fforgiuen that hee may bee.’

71

‘I'le make a vow,’ Lord Phenix sayes,
‘My men shall beare wittnesse with thee,
Giffe thou slay mee att this time,
Neuer the worsse beloued in Scottland thou shalt bee.’

72

Then they turned their horsses round about,
To run the race more egarlye;
Lord Phenix he was stiffe and stout,
He has runn Thomas quite thorrow the thye.

73

And beere Thomas out of his saddle ffaire;
Vpon the ground there did hee lye;
He saies, For my liffe I doe not care,
But ffor the loue of my ladye.

74

But shall I lose my ladye ffaire?
I thought shee shold haue beene my wiffe;
I pray thee, Lord Phenix, ryde not away,
For with thee I will loose my liffe.

75

Tho Thomas a Potts was a seruing-man,
He was alsoe a phisityan good;
He clapt his hand vpon his wound,
With some kind of words he stauncht the blood.

76

Then into his sadle againe hee leepe;
The blood in his body began to warme;
He mist Lord Phenix bodye there,
But he run him quite throw the brawne of the arme.

77

And he bore him quite out of his saddle ffaire;
Vpon the ground there did he lye;
He said, I pray thee, Lord Phenix, rise and ffight,
Or else yeeld this ladye sweete to mee.

78

‘To ffight with thee,’ quoth Phenix, ‘I cannott stand,
Nor ffor to ffight, I cannott, sure;
Thou hast run me through the brawne of the arme;
Noe longer of thy spere I cannott endure.

79

‘Thou'st haue that ladye with all my hart,
Sith itt was like neuer better to proue.

446

Nor neuer a noble-man this day,
That will seeke to take a pore man's loue.’

80

‘Why then, be of good cheere,’ saies Thomas Pott,
‘Indeed your bucher I'le neuer bee,
For I'le come and stanche your bloode,
Giff any thankes you'le giue to mee.’

81

As he was stanching the Phenix blood,
These words Thomas a Pott cann to him proue:
‘I'le neuer take a ladye of you thus,
But here I'le giue you another choice.

82

‘Heere is a lane of two miles longe;
Att either end sett wee will bee;
The ladye shall sitt vs betweene,
And soe will wee sett this ladye ffree.’

83

‘If thou'le doe soe,’ Lord Phenix sayes,
‘Thomas a Pott, as thou dost tell mee,
Whether I gett her or goe without her,
Heere's forty pounds I'le giue itt thee.’

84

And when the ladye there can stand,
A woman's mind that day to proue,
‘Now, by my ffaith,’ said this ladye ffaire,
‘This day Thomas a Pott shall haue his owne loue.’

85

Toward Thomas a Pott the lady shee went,
To leape behind him hastilye;
‘Nay, abyde a while,’ sayd Lord Phenix,
‘Ffor better yett proued thou shalt bee.

86

‘Thou shalt stay heere with all thy maids —
In number with thee thou hast but three —
Thomas a Pott and I'le goe beyond yonder wall,
There the one of vs shall dye.’

87

And when they came beyond the wall,
The one wold not the other nye;
Lord Phenix he had giuen his word
With Thomas a Pott neuer to ffight.

88

‘Giue me a choice,’ Lord Phenix sayes,
‘Thomas a Pott, I doe pray thee;
Lett mee goe to yonder ladye ffaire,
To see whether shee be true to thee.’

89

And when hee came that ladye too,
Vnto that likesome dame sayd hee,
Now God thee saue, thou ladye ffaire,
The heyre of all my land thou'st bee.

90

Ffor this Thomas a Potts I haue slaine;
He hath more then deadlye wounds two or three;
Thou art mine owne ladye, he sayd,
And marryed together wee will bee.

91

The ladye said, If Thomas a Potts this day thou haue slaine,
Thou hast slaine a better man than euer was thee;
And I'le sell all the state of my lande
But thou'st be hanged on a gallow-tree.

92

With that they lady shee ffell in a soone;
A greeued woman, I wott, was shee;
Lord Phenix hee was readye there,
Tooke her in his armes most hastilye.

93

‘O Lord, sweete, and stand on thy ffeete,
This day Thomas a Pott aliue can bee;
I'le send ffor thy father, the Lord of Arrundale,
And marryed together I will you see:
Giffe hee will not maintaine you well,
Both gold and land you shall haue from me.’

94

‘I'le see that wedding,’ my Lord of Arrundale said,
‘Of my daughter's loue that is soe ffaire;
And sith itt will no better be,
Of all my land Thomas a Pott shall be my heyre.’

95

‘Now all my maids,’ the ladye said,
‘And ladyes of England, faire and ffree,
Looke you neuer change your old loue for no new,
Nor neuer change for no pouertye.

96

‘Ffor I had a louer true of mine owne,
A seruing-man of a small degree;
Ffrom Thomas a Pott I'le turne his name,
And the Lord of Arrundale hee shall bee.’

447

The Lovers Quarrel, or, Cupid's Triumph

TOM POTTS—B

[_]

a. London, printed for F. Coles, and others, 1677, Bodleian Library, Wood, 259. b. Pepys Penny Merriments, I, 189, Magdalen College Library, Cambridge.

1

Of all the lords in Scotland fair,
And ladies that been so bright of blee,
There is a noble lady among them all,
And report of her you shall hear by me.

2

For of her beauty she is bright,
And of her colour very fair;
She's daughter to Lord Arundel,
Approvd his parand and his heir.

3

‘I'le see this bride,’ Lord Phenix said,
‘That lady of so bright a blee,
And if I like her countenance well,
The heir of all my lands she'st be.’

4

But when he came the lady before,
Before this comely maid came he,
‘O God thee save, thou lady sweet,
My heir and parand thou shalt be.’

5

‘Leave off your suit,’ the lady said,
‘As you are a lord of high degree;
You may have ladies enough at home,
And I have a lord in mine own country.

6

‘For I have a lover true of mine own,
A serving-man of low degree,
One Tommy Pots it is his name,
My first love and last that ever shall be.’

7

‘If that Tom Pots is his name,
I do ken him right verily;
I am able to spend fourty pounds a week,
Where he is not able to spend pounds three.’

8

‘God give you good of your gold,’ she said,
‘And ever God give you good of your fee;
Tom Pots was the first love that ever I had,
And I do mean him the last to be.’

9

With that Lord Phenix soon was movd;
Towards the lady did he threat;
He told her father, and so it was provd,
How his daughter's mind was set.

10

‘O daughter dear, thou art my own,
The heir of all my lands to be;
Thou shalt be bride to the Lord Phenix,
If that thou mean to be heir to me.’

11

‘O father dear, I am your own,
And at your command I needs must be;
But bind my body to whom you please,
My heart, Tom Pots, shall go with thee.’

12

Alas! the lady her fondness must leave,
And all her foolish wooing lay aside;
The time is come, her friends have appointed,
That she must be Lord Phenix bride.

13

With that the lady began to weep;
She knew not well then what to say,
How she might Lord Phenix deny,
And escape from marriage quite away.

14

See calld unto her little foot-page,
Saying, I can trust none but thee;
Go carry Tom Pots this letter fair,
And bid him on Guilford Green meet me.

15

For I must marry against my mind,
Or in faith well proved it shall be;
And tell to him I am loving and kind,
And wishes him this wedding to see.

16

But see that thou note his countenance well,
And his colour, and shew it to me;
And go thy way and hie thee again,
And forty shillings I will give thee.

17

For if he smile now with his lips,
His stomach will give him to laugh at the heart;
Then may I seek another true-love,
For of Tom Pots small is my part.

18

But if he blush now in his face,
Then in his heart he will sorry be;
Then to his vow he hath some grace,
And false to him I will never be.

19

Away this lacky-boy he ran,
And a full speed forsooth went he,
Till he came to Strawberry Castle,
And there Tom Pots came he to see.

20

He gave him the letter in his hand;
Before that he began to read,
He told him plainly by word of mouth,
His love was forc'd to be Lord Phenix bride.

21

When he lookd on the letter fair,
The salt tears blemished his eye;

448

Says, I cannot read this letter fair,
Nor never a word to see or spy.

22

My little boy, be to me true,
Here is five marks I will give thee;
And all these words I must peruse,
And tell my lady this from me.

23

By faith and troth she is my own,
By some part of promise, so it's to be found;
Lord Phoenix shall not have her night nor day,
Except he can win her with his own hand.

24

On Guilford Green I will her meet;
Say that I wish her for me to pray;
For there I'le lose my life so sweet,
Or else the wedding I mean to stay.

25

Away this lackey-boy he ran,
Even as fast as he could hie;
The lady she met him two miles of the way;
Says, Why hast thou staid so long, my boy?

26

My little boy, thou art but young,
It gives me at heart thou'l mock and scorn;
I'le not believe thee by word of mouth,
Unless on this book thou wilt be sworn.

27

‘Now by this book,’ the boy did say,
‘And Jesus Christ be as true to me,
Tom Pots could not read the letter fair,
Nor never a word to spy or see.

28

‘He says, by faith and troth you are his own,
By some part of promise, so it's to be found;
Lord Phenix shall not have you night nor day,
Except he win you with his own hand.

29

‘On Guilford Green he will you meet;
He wishes you for him to pray;
For there he'l lose his life so sweet,
Or else the wedding he means to stay.’

30

‘If this be true, my little boy,
These tidings which thou tellest to me,
Forty shillings I did thee promise,
Here is ten pounds I will give thee.

31

‘My maidens all,’ the lady said,
‘That ever wish me well to prove,
Now let us all kneel down and pray
That Tommy Pots may win his love.

32

‘If it be his fortune the better to win,
As I pray to Christ in Trinity,
I'le make him the flower of all his kin,
For the young Lord Arundel he shall be.’

33

Let's leave talking of this lady fair,
In prayers full good where she may be;
Now let us talk of Tommy Pots;
To his lord and master for aid went he.

34

But when he came Lord Jockey before,
He kneeled lowly on his knee:
‘What news, what news, thou Tommy Pots,
Thou art so full of courtesie?

35

‘What tydings, what tydings, thou Tommy Pots,
Thou art so full of courtesie?
Thou hast slain some of thy fellows fair,
Or wrought to me some villany.’

36

‘I have slain none of my fellows fair,
Nor wrought to you no villany,
But I have a love in Scotland fair,
And I fear I shall lose her with poverty.

37

‘If you'l not believe me by word of mouth,
But read this letter, and you shall see,
Here by all these suspitious words
That she her own self hath sent to me.’

38

But when he had read the letter fair,
Of all the suspitious words in it might be,
‘O Tommy Pots, take thou no care,
Thou'st never lose her with poverty.

39

‘For thou'st have forty pounds a week,
In gold and silver thou shalt row,
And Harvy Town I will give thee
As long as thou intendst to wooe.

40

‘Thou'st have forty of thy fellows fair,
And forty horses to go with thee,
Forty of the best spears I have,
And I my self in thy company.’

41

‘I thank you, master,’ said Tommy Pots,
‘That proffer is too good for me;
But, if Jesus Christ stand on my side,
My own hands shall set her free.

449

42

‘God be with you, master,’ said Tommy Pots,
‘Now Jesus Christ you save and see;
If ever I come alive again,
Staid the wedding it shall be.’

43

‘O God be your speed, thou Tommy Pots,
Thou art well proved for a man;
See never a drop of blood thou spil,
Nor yonder gentleman confound.

44

‘See that some truce with him you take,
And appoint a place of liberty;
Let him provide him as well as he can,
As well provided thou shalt be.’

45

But when he came to Guilford Green,
And there had walkt a little aside,
There was he ware of Lord Phenix come,
And Lady Rosamond his bride.

46

Away by the bride then Tommy Pots went,
But never a word to her did say,
Till he the Lord Phenix came before;
He gave him the right time of the day.

47

‘O welcome, welcome, thou Tommy Pots,
Thou serving-man of low degree;
How doth thy lord and master at home,
And all the ladies in that countrey?’

48

‘My lord and master is in good health,
I trust since that I did him see;
Will you walk with me to an out-side,
Two or three words to talk with me?

49

‘You are a noble man,’ said Tom,
‘And born a lord in Scotland free;
You may have ladies enough at home,
And never take my love from me.’

50

‘Away, away, thou Tommy Pots;
Thou serving-man, stand thou aside;
It is not a serving-man this day
That can hinder me of my bride.’

51

‘If I be a serving-man,’ said Tom,
‘And you a lord of high degree,
A spear or two with you I'le run,
Before I'le lose her cowardly.

52

‘Appoint a place, I will thee meet,
Appoint a place of liberty;
For there I'le lose my life so sweet,
Or else my lady I'le set free.’

53

‘On Guilford Green I will thee meet;
No man nor boy shall come with me:’
‘As I am a man,’ said Tommy Pots,
‘I'le have as few in my company.’

54

And thus staid the marriage was,
The bride unmarried went home again;
Then to her maids fast did she laugh,
And in her heart she was full fain.

55

‘My maidens all,’ the lady said,
‘That ever wait on me this day,
Now let us all kneel down,
And for Tommy Pots let us all pray.

56

‘If it be his fortune the better to win,
As I trust to God in Trinity,
I'le make him the flower of all his kin,
For the young Lord Arundel he shall be.’

57

When Tom Pots came home again,
To try for his love he had but a week;
For sorrow, God wot, he need not care,
For four days that he fel sick.

58

With that his master to him came,
Says, Pray thee, Tom Pots, tell me if tho doubt
Whether thou hast gotten thy gay lady,
Or thou must go thy love without.

59

‘O master, yet it is unknown;
Within these two days well try'd it must be;
He is a lord, I am but a serving-man,
I fear I shall lose her with poverty.’

60

‘I prethee, Tom Pots, get thee on thy feet;
My former promises kept shall be;
As I am a lord in Scotland fair,
Thou'st never lose her with poverty.

61

‘For thou'st have the half of my lands a year,
And that will raise thee many a pound;
Before thou shalt out-braved be,
Thou shalt drop angels with him on the ground.’

62

‘I thank you, master,’ said Tommy Pots,
‘Yet there is one thing of you I would fain;
If that I lose my lady sweet,
How I'st restore your goods again?’

63

‘If that thou win the lady sweet,
Thou mayst well forth, thou shalt pay me;

450

If thou loosest thy lady, thou losest enough;
Thou shalt not pay me one penny.’

64

‘You have thirty horses in one close,
You keep them all both frank and free;
Amongst them all there's an old white horse
This day would set my lady free.

65

‘That is an old horse with a cut tail,
Full sixteen years of age is he;
If thou wilt lend me that old horse,
Then could I win her easily.’

66

‘That's a foolish opinion,’ his master said,
‘And a foolish opinion thou tak'st to thee;
Thou'st have a better then ever he was,
Though forty pounds more it cost me.’

67

‘O your choice horses are wild and tough,
And little they can skill of their train;
If I be out of my saddle cast,
They are so wild they'l ner be tain.’

68

‘Thou'st have that horse,’ his master said,
‘If that one thing thou wilt tell me;
Why that horse is better than any other,
I pray thee, Tom Pots, shew thou to me.’

69

‘That horse is old, of stomach bold,
And well can he skill of his train;
If I be out of my saddle cast,
He'l either stand still or turn again.’

70

‘Thou'st have the horse with all my heart,
And my plate-coat of silver free;
An hundred men to stand at thy back,
To fight if he thy master be.’

71

‘I thank you master,’ said Tommy Pots,
‘That proffer is too good for me;
I would not, for ten thousand pounds,
Have man or boy in my company.

72

‘God be with you, master,’ said Tommy Pots;
‘Now, as you are a man of law,
One thing let me crave at your hand;
Let never a one of my fellows know.

73

‘For if that my fellows they did wot,
Or ken of my extremity,
Except you keep them under a lock,
Behind me I am sure they would not be.’

74

But when he came to Guilford Green,
He waited hours two or three;
There he was ware of Lord Phenix come,
And four men in his company.

75

‘You have broken your vow,’ said Tommy Pots,
‘The vow which you did make to me;
You said you would bring neither man nor boy,
And now has brought more than two or three.’

76

‘These are my men,’ Lord Phenix said,
‘Which every day do wait on me;
[If] any of these dare proffer to strike,
I'le run my spear through his body.’

77

‘I'le run no race now,’ said Tommy Pots,
‘Except now this may be;
If either of us be slain this day,
The other shall forgiven be.’

78

‘I'le make that vow with all my heart,
My men shall bear witness with me;
And if thou slay me here this day,
In Scotland worse belovd thou never shalt be.’

79

They turnd their horses thrice about,
To run the race so eagerly;
Lord Phenix he was fierce and stout,
And ran Tom Pots through the thick o th' thigh.

80

He bord him out of the saddle fair,
Down to the ground so sorrowfully:
‘For the loss of my life I do not care,
But for the loss of my fair lady.

81

‘Now for the loss of my lady sweet,
Which once I thought to have been my wife,
I pray thee, Lord Phenix, ride not away,
For with thee I would end my life.’

82

Tom Pots was but a serving-man,
But yet he was a doctor good;
He bound his handkerchief on his wound,
And with some kind of words he stancht his blood.

451

83

He leapt into his saddle again,
The blood in his body began to warm;
He mist Lord Phenix body fair,
And ran him through the brawn of the arm.

84

He bord him out of his saddle fair,
Down to the ground most sorrowfully;
Says, Prethee, Lord Phenix, rise up and fight,
Or yield my lady unto me.

85

‘Now for to fight I cannot tell,
And for to fight I am not sure;
Thou hast run me throw the brawn o th' arm,
That with a spear I may not endure.

86

‘Thou'st have the lady with all my heart;
It was never likely better to prove
With me, or any nobleman else,
That would hinder a poor man of his love.’

87

‘Seeing you say so much,’ said Tommy Pots,
‘I will not seem your butcher to be;
But I will come and stanch your blood,
If any thing you will give me.’

88

As he did stanch Lord Phenix blood,
Lord, in his heart he did rejoyce!
‘I'le not take the lady from you thus,
But of her you'st have another choice.

89

‘Here is a lane of two miles long;
At either end we set will be;
The lady shall stand us among,
Her own choice shall set her free.’

90

‘If thou'l do so,’ Lord Phenix said,
‘To lose her by her own choice it's honesty;
Chuse whether I get her or go her without,
Forty pounds I will give thee.’

91

But when they in that lane was set,
The wit of a woman for to prove,
‘By the faith of my body,’ the lady said,
‘Then Tom Pots must needs have his love.’

92

Towards Tom Pots the lady did hie,
To get on behind him hastily;
‘Nay stay, nay stay,’ Lord Phenix said,
‘Better proved it shall be.

93

‘Stay you with your maidens here —
In number fair they are but three —
Tom Pots and I will go behind yonder wall,
That one of us two be proved to dye.’

94

But when they came behind the wall,
The one came not the other nigh;
For the Lord Phenix had made a vow,
That with Tom Pots he would never fight.

95

‘O give me this choice,’ Lord Phenix said,
‘To prove whether true or false she be,
And I will go to the lady fair,
And tell her Tom Pots slain is he.’

96

When he came from behind the wall,
With his face all bloody as it might be,
‘O lady sweet, thou art my own,
For Tom Pots slain have I.

97

‘Now have I slain him, Tommy Pots,
And given him death's wounds two or three;
O lady sweet, thou art my own;
Of all loves, wilt thou live with me?’

98

‘If thou hast slain him, Tommy Pots,
And given him death's wounds two or three,
I'le sell the state of my father's lands
But hanged shall Lord Phenix be.’

99

With that the lady fell in a swound,
For a grieved woman, God wot, was she;
Lord Phenix he was ready then
To take her up so hastily.

100

‘O lady sweet, stand thou on thy feet,
Tom Pots alive this day may be;
I'le send for thy father, Lord Arundel,
And he and I the wedding will see.

101

‘I'le send for thy father, Lord Arundel,
And he and I the wedding will see;
If he will not maintain you well,
Both lands and livings you'st have of me.’

102

‘I'le see this wedding,’ Lord Arundel said,
‘Of my daughter's luck that is so fair;
Seeing the matter will be no better,
Of all my lands Tom Pots shall be the heir.’

103

With that the lady began for to smile,
For a glad woman, God wot, was she;
‘Now all my maids,’ the lady said,
‘Example you may take by me.

452

104

‘But all the ladies of Scotland fair,
And lasses of England that well would prove,
Neither marry for gold nor goods,
Nor marry for nothing but only love.

105

‘For I had a lover true of my own,
A serving-man of low degree;
Now from Tom Pots I'le change his name,
For the young Lord Arundel he shall be.’

The Two Constant Lovers in Scotland

TOM POTTS—C

[_]

A white letter sheet in five columns, “published May 29, 1657,” The King's Pamphlets, British Museum, 669, f. 20, 55.

1

In Scotland there are ladies fair,
There's ladies of honor and high degree,
Hey down, down a down derry
But one excels above all the rest,
And the Earl of Arundel's daughter is she.
With hey down, derry down,
Lang derry down derry

2

Both knights and lords of great account
Comes thither a wooing for this ladie's sake:
It fell on a day that Earl Arundell said,
Daughter, which of these lords will you take?

3

Or which of them now likes thee best?
Speak truth to me, but do not lie;
Speak truth to me, and do not jest,
Who must heir my livings when as I die?

4

Lord Fenix is a lord of high degree,
And hath both lands and livings free;
I tell thee, daughter, thou shalt him have,
If thou wilt take any counsell at me.

5

With that the young lady fell down of her knee,
And trickling tears ran down her eye:
‘As you are my father, and loves me dear,
My heart is set where it must be.

6

‘On a serving-man which is so poor,
For all he hath is but pounds three;
He was the first lover that ere I had,
And the last I mean him for to be.’

7

With that her father was sore offended,
And fast he rode at that same tide,
Untill he to the Lord Fenix came,
And said, Take thee my daughter for thy bride.

8

The yong ladie cald up Jack, her foot-boy:
‘I dare trust no man alive but thee;
Thou must go my earand to Strawbery Castle,
To the place where Tomy o'th Potts doth lye.

9

‘And carry this letter, in parchment fair,
That I have sealed with mine own hand;
And when Tomey looks this letter upon,
Be sure his countenance thou understand.

10

‘And if he either laugh or smile,
He is not sorry at his heart;
I must seek a new love where I will,
For small of Tomey must be my part.

11

‘But if he wax red in the face,
And tricling tears fall from his eyes,
Then let my father say what he will,
For true to Tomey I'le be always.

12

‘And thou must tell him by word of mouth,
If this letter cannot be read at that tyde,
That this day sennight, and no longer hence,
I must be Lord William Fenix bride.’

13

The boy took leave of his lady gay,
And to Strawbery Castle he did him fast hie;
A serving-man did guide him the way
To the place where Tomey o'th Pots did lie.

14

‘O Christ thee save, good Tomey o'th Pots,
And Christ thee save as I thee see;
Come read this letter, Tomey o'th Potts,
As thy true-love hath sent to thee.’

15

Then Tomey he waxed red in the face,
And trickling tears ran down his eyes;
But never a letter could he read,
If he should be hanged on th' gallow-tree.

16

‘Shee bid me tell you by word of mouth,
If this letter could not be read at this tide,

453

That this day sennight, and no longer hence,
She must be Lord William Fenix bride.’

17

‘Now in faith,’ said Tomey, ‘she is mine own,
As all hereafter shall understand;
Lord Fenix shall not marry her, by night or day,
Unless he win her by his own hand.

18

‘For on Gilforth Green I will her meet,
And if she love me, bid her for me pray;
And there I will lose my life so sweet,
Or else her wedding I will stay.’

19

He cald this boy unto accounts;
Think whether he loved this lady gay!
He gave him forty shilling for his message,
And all he had was but pounds three.

20

The boy took his leave of Tomey o'th Potts,
Fearing that he had staid too late;
The young lady did wait of his comming,
And met him five miles out of the gate.

21

‘O honey boy, thou art not of age,
Therefore thou canst both mock and scorn;
I will not beleeve what my love hath said,
Unlesse thou on this book be sworn.’

22

‘Now, in faith, gay lady, I will not lye,’
And kist the book full soon did he:
‘One letter he could not read at that time,
If he should have been hangd at gallo-tree.

23

‘He said in faith you are his own,
As all hereafter shall understand;
Lord Fenix shall not marry you by night or day,
Unlesse he winn you with his own hand.

24

‘For on Gilforth Green he will you meet,
And if you love him, you must for him pray;
And there he will lose his life so sweet,
Or else your wedding he will stay.’

25

Let us leave talking of the boy,
That with his gay lady is turned home;
Now let us go talk of Tomey o'th Potts,
And how to his master he is gone.

26

When Tomey came his master before,
He kneeled down upon his knee:
‘What tidings hast thou brought, my man,
As that thou makes such courtesie?’

27

‘O Christ you save, dear master,’ he said,
‘And Christ you save as I you see;
For God's love, master, come read me this letter,
Which my true love hath sent to me.’

28

His master took this letter in hand,
And looked ore it with his eye;
‘In faith, I am fain, my man,’ he said,
‘As thou hast a lady so true to thee.’

29

‘I have a lady true to me,
And false to her I'le never be;
But ere this day sennight, and no longer hence,
I must lose my love through povertie.

30

‘Lord Fenix he will her have,
Because he hath more wealth then I:’
‘Now hold thy tongue, my man,’ he said,
‘For before that day many a one shall die.

31

‘O Tomey,’ said he, ‘I love thee well,
And something for thee I will doo;
For Strawbery Castle shall be thine own
So long as thou dost mean to woo.

32

‘One half of my lands I'le give thee a year,
The which will raise thee many a pound;
Before that thou lose thy bonny sweet-hart,
Thou shalt drop angels with him to the ground.

33

‘I have thirty steeds in my stable strong,
Which any of them is good indeed,
And a bunch of spears hangs them among,
And a nag to carry thee swift with speed.

34

‘My sute of armour thou shalt put on —
So well it becomes thy fair body —
And when thou comst on Gilford Green
Thou'll look more like a lord then he.

35

‘My men shall all rise and with thee go,
And I my self with thee will ride;
And many a bloody wound will we make
Before that thou shalt lose thy bride.’

36

‘Now Christ reward you, dear master,’ he said,
‘For the good will you bear to me;

454

But I trust to God, in a little space,
With my own hands to set her free.

37

‘I'le none of your horses, master,’ he said,
‘For they cannot well skill of their trade;
None but your gray nag that hath a cut tail,
For hee'll either stand or turn again.

38

‘One spear, master, and no more,
No more with me that I will take,
And if that spear it will not serve my turn,
I'le suffer death for my true-love's sake.’

39

Early in the morning, when day did spring,
On Gilforth Green betime was he;
There did he espie Lord Fenix comming,
And with him a royall company.

40

Gold chains about their necks threescore,
Full well might seem fine lords to ride;
The young lady followed far behind,
Sore against her will that she was a bride.

41

There Tomey passed this lady by,
But never a word to her did say;
Then straight to Lord Fenix he is gone,
And gives him the right time of the day.

42

‘O Christ you save, Lord Fenix,’ he said,
‘And Christ you save as I you see;’
‘Thou art welcome, Tomey o'th Potts,’ he said,
‘A serving-man into our company.

43

‘O how doth thy master, Tomy o'th Potts?
Tell me the truth and do not lye;’
‘My master is well,’ then Tomey replide,
‘I thank my lord, and I thank not thee.

44

‘O Christ you save Lord Fenix,’ he said,
‘And Christ you save as I you see;
You may have choyce of ladies enough,
And not take my true-love from me.’

45

With that Lord Fenix was sore offended,
And fast away he rode at that tide;
‘God forbid,’ Lord Fenix he said,
‘A serving-man should hold me from my bride!’

46

But afterward Tomey did him meet,
As one that came not thither to flye,
And said, Lord Fenix, take thou my love,
For I will not lose her cowardly.

47

‘O meet me here tomorrow,’ he said;
‘As thou art a man, come but thy sell;
And if that I come [with] any more,
The divell fetch my soul to hell.’

48

And so this wedding-day was staid,
The lady and lords they turned home;
The lady made merry her maidens among,
And said, Tomey I wish thou may win thy own.

49

Early in the morning, when day did spring,
On Gilforth Green betime was he;
He waited long for Lord Fenix comming,
But Lord William Fenix he could not see.

50

He waited long and very long,
Untill the sun waxed very high;
There was he ware of Lord Fenix coming,
And with him other men three.

51

‘Thou art a false thief, Lord Fenix,’ he said,
‘Because thou breakst thy promise with me;
Thou promisedst me to come by thy self,
And thou hast brought other men three.

52

‘But in regard I call thee thief,
Because thou hast broken promise with me,
I vow, and you were as many more,
Forsaken sure you should not be.’

53

‘These are my men,’ Lord Fenix said,
‘That every day do wait on me;
If any of them do strike a stroke,
In faith then hanged he shall be.’

54

They fetcht a race and rode about,
And then they met full eagerly;
Lord Fenix away by Tomey's body glowd,
And he ran him quite thorow the thigh.

55

Out of his saddle bore him he did,
And laid his body on the ground;
His spear he ran thorow Tomey's thigh,
In which he made a grievous wound.

56

But Tomey quickly start up again;
For as he was a physitian good,
He laid his hand upon the wound,
And quickly he did stanch the blood.

57

Full lightly he leaped to his saddle again,
Forth of it long he did not stay;

455

For he weighed more of the ladie's love
Then of any life he had that day.

58

They fetched a race and rode about,
The blood in Tomey's body began to warm;
He away by Lord Fenix body glowde,
And he ran him quite through the arm.

59

Out of his saddle bore him he hath,
Of from his steed that mounted so high;
‘Now rise and fight, Lord Fenix,’ he said,
‘Or else yeeld the lady unto me.’

60

‘I'll yeeld the lady unto thee;
My arm no more my spear will guide;
It was never better likely to prove,
To hold a poor serving-man from his bride.’

61

‘But if thou wilt thus deal then with me,
Lest of this matter should rise any voice,
That I have gotten the victory,
Then thou shalt have another choice.

62

‘Yonder is a lane of two miles long;
At either end then stand will we;
Wee'l set the lady in the midst,
And whether she come to, take her, for me.’

63

‘If thou wilt thus deal,’ said Fenix then,
‘Thou'll save my credit and honor high;
And whether I win her, or go without her,
I'le be willing to give ten pounds to thee.’

64

There was a lane of two miles long;
The lady was set in the middle that tide;
She laught and made merry her maids among,
And said, Tomey o'th Pots, now I'le be thy bride.

65

Now all you ladies of high degree,
And maides that married yet would be,
Marry no man for goods or lands,
Unlesse you love him faithfully.

66

For I had a love of my own, she said,
At Strawberrie Castle there lived he;
I'le change his name from Tomey o'th Pots,
And the yong Earl of Arundell now he shall be.

457

110
THE KNIGHT AND SHEPHERD'S DAUGHTER


459

The Beautifull Shepherdesse of Arcadia

THE KNIGHT AND SHEPHERD'S DAUGHTER—A

[_]

a. Roxburghe Ballads, III, 160, 161. b. The same, II, 30, 31.

1

There was a shepherd's daughter
Came triping on the way,
And there she met a courteous knight,
Which caused her to stay.
Sing trang dil do lee

2

‘Good morow to you, beautious maid,’
These words pronounced he;
‘O I shall dye this day,’ he said,
‘If I have not my will of thee.’

3

‘The Lord forbid,’ the maid reply'd,
‘That such a thing should be,
That ever such a courteous yong knight
Should dye for love of me.’

4

He took her by the middle so small,
And laid her down on the plain,
And after he had had his will,
He took her up again.

5

‘Now you have had your wil, good sir,
And put my body thus to shame,
Even as you are a courteous knight,
Tel me what is your name.’

6

‘Some men do call me Jack, sweet heart,
And some do call me John,
But when I come to the king's [fair] court,
They call me Sweet William.’

7

He set his foot in the stirrop,
And away then did he ride;
She tuckt her kirtle about her middle,
And run close by his side.

8

But when she came to the broad water,
She set her brest and swom,
And when she was got out again,
She took her heels and run.

9

He never was the courteous knight
To say, Fair maid, will you ride?
Nor she never was so loving a maid
To say, Sir Knight, abide.

10

But when she came to the king's fair court,
She knocked at the ring;
So ready was the king himself
To let this fair maid in.

11

‘O Christ you save, my gracious leige,
Your body Christ save and see!
You have got a knight within your court
This day hath robbed me.

12

‘What hath he robbed thee of, fair maid?
Of purple or of pall?

460

Or hath he took thy gay gold ring,
From off thy finger small?’

13

‘He hath not robbed me, my liege,
Of purple nor of pall;
But he hath got my maidenhead,
Which grieves me worst of all.’

14

‘Now if he be a batchelor,
His body I'le give to thee;
But if he be a married man,
High hanged shall he be.’

15

He called down his merry men all,
By one, by two, and by three;
Sweet William was us'd to be the first,
But now the last comes hee.

16

He brought her down full forty pound,
Ty'd up with[in] a glove:
‘Fair maid, I give the same to the,
And seek another love.’

17

‘O I'le have none of your gold,’ she said,
‘Nor I'le have none of your fee;
But I must have your fair body
The king hath given me.’

18

Sweet William ran and fetcht her then
Five hundred pound in gold,
Saying, Fair maid, take this unto thee;
Thy fault will never be told.

19

‘'Tis not your gold that shall me tempt,’
These words then answered she,
‘But I must have your own body;
So the king hath granted me.’

20

‘Would I had drank the fair water
When I did drink the wine,
That ever any shepherd's daughter
Should be a fair lady of mine!

21

‘Would I had drunk the puddle-water
When I did drink the ale,
That ever any shepherd's daughter
Should have told me such a tale!’

22

‘A shepheard's daughter as I was,
You might have let me be;
I'd never come to the king's fair court
To have craved any love of thee.’

23

He set her on a milk-white steed,
And himselfe upon a gray;
He hung a bugle about his neck,
And so they rode away.

24

But when they came unto the place
Where marriage rites were done,
She provd her self a duke's daughter,
And he but a squire's son.

25

‘Now you have married me, sir knight,
Your pleasures may be free;
If you make me lady of one good town,
I'le make you lord of three.’

26

‘Accursed be the gold,’ he said,
‘If thou hadst not bin true,
That should have parted thee from me,
To have chang'd thee for a new.’

27

Their hearts being then so linked fast,
And joyning hand in hand,
He had both purse and person too,
And all at his command.

Shepherd's Dochter

THE KNIGHT AND SHEPHERD'S DAUGHTER—B

[_]

Kinloch MSS, V, 255, in the handwriting of Mr Kinloch.

1

There was a shepherd's dochter
Kept sheep upon yon hill,
And by cam a gay braw gentleman,
And wad hae had his will.

2

He took her by the milk-white hand,
And laid her on the ground,
And whan he got his will o her
He lift her up again.

3

‘O syne ye've got your will o me,
Your will o me ye've taen,
'Tis all I ask o you, kind sir,
Is to tell to me your name.’

4

‘Sometimes they call me Jack,’ he said,
‘Sometimes they call me John,

461

But whan I am in the king's court,
My name is Wilfu Will.’

5

Then he loup on his milk-white steed,
And straught away he rade,
And she did kilt her petticoats,
And after him she gaed.

6

He never was sae kind as say,
O lassie, will ye ride?
Nor ever had she the courage to say,
O laddie, will ye bide!

7

Until they cam to a wan water,
Which was called Clyde,
And then he turned about his horse,
Said, Lassie, will ye ride?

8

‘I learned it in my father's hall,
I learned it for my weel,
That whan I come to deep water,
I can swim as it were an eel.

9

‘I learned it in my mother's bower,
I learned it for my better,
That whan I come to broad water,
I can swim like ony otter.’

10

He plunged his steed into the ford,
And straught way thro he rade,
And she set in her lilly feet,
And thro the water wade.

11

And whan she cam to the king's court,
She tirled on the pin,
And wha sae ready's the king himsel
To let the fair maid in?

12

‘What is your will wi me, fair maid?
What is your will wi me?’
‘There is a man into your court
This day has robbed me.’

13

‘O has he taen your gold,’ he said,
‘Or has he taen your fee?
Or has he stown your maidenhead,
The flower of your bodye?’

14

‘He has na taen my gold, kind sir,
Nor as little has he taen my fee,
But he has taen my maidenhead,
The flower of my bodye.’

15

‘O gif he be a married man,
High hangit shall he be,
But gif he be a bachelor,
His body I'll grant thee.’

16

‘Sometimes they call him Jack,’ she said,
‘Sometimes they call him John,
But whan he's in the king's court,
His name is Sweet William.’

17

‘There's not a William in a' my court,
Never a one but three,
And one of them is the Queen's brother;
I wad laugh gif it war he.’

18

The king called on his merry men,
By thirty and by three;
Sweet Willie, wha used to be foremost man,
Was the hindmost a' but three.

19

O he cam cripple, and he cam blind,
Cam twa-fald oer a tree:
‘O be he cripple, or be he blind,
This very same man is he.’

20

‘O whether will ye marry the bonny may,
Or hang on the gallows-tree?’
‘O I will rather marry the bonny may,
Afore that I do die.’

21

But he took out a purse of gold,
Weel locked in a glove:
‘O tak ye that, my bonny may,
And seek anither love.’

22

‘O I will hae none o your gold,’ she says,
‘Nor as little ony of your fee,
But I will hae your ain body,
The king has granted me.’

23

O he took out a purse of gold,
A purse of gold and store;
‘O tak ye that, fair may,’ he said,
‘Frae me ye'll neer get mair.’

24

‘O haud your tongue, young man,’ she says,
‘And I pray you let me be;
For I will hae your ain body,
The king has granted me.’

25

He mounted her on a bonny bay horse,
Himsel on the silver grey;

462

He drew his bonnet out oer his een,
He whipt and rade away.

26

O whan they cam to yon nettle bush,
The nettles they war spread:
‘O an my mither war but here,’ she says,
‘These nettles she wad sued.’

27

‘O an I had drank the wan water
Whan I did drink the wine,
That eer a shepherd's dochter
Should hae been a love o mine!’

28

‘O may be I'm a shepherd's dochter,
And may be I am nane;
But you might hae ridden on your ways,
And hae let me alane.’

29

O whan they cam unto yon mill,
She heard the mill clap:
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

30

‘Clap on, clap on, thou bonny mill,
Weel may thou, I say,
For mony a time thou's filled my pock
Wi baith oat-meal and grey.’

31

‘O an I had drank the wan water
Whan I did drink the wine,
That eer a shepherd's dochter
Should hae been a love o mine!’

32

‘O may be I'm a shepherd's dochter,
And may be I am nane;
But you might hae ridden on your ways,
And hae let me alane.

33

‘But yet I think a fitter match
Could scarcely gang thegither
Than the King of France's auld dochter
And the Queen of Scotland's brither.’

Earl Richard

THE KNIGHT AND SHEPHERD'S DAUGHTER—C

[_]

Kinloch's MSS, VII, 69; apparently from the recitation of Mrs Charles of Torry, Aberdeen, born in Mearnshire.

1

There was a shepherd's dochter
Kept sheep on yonder hill;
Bye cam a knicht frae the High College,
And he wad hae his will.

2

Whan he had got his wills o her,
His will as he has taen:
‘Wad ye be sae gude and kind
As tell to me your name?’

3

‘Some ca's me Jock, some ca's me John,
Some disna ken my name,
But whan I'm into the king's court,
Mitchcock is my name.’

4

‘Mitchcock! hey!’ the lady did say,
And spelt it oure again;
‘If that's your name in the Latin tongue,
Earl Richard is your name!’

5

O jumpt he upon his horse,
And said he wad go ride;
Kilted she her green claithing,
And said she wad na bide.

6

The knicht rade on, the lady ran,
A live-lang simmer's day,
Till they cam to a wan water
Was calld the river Tay.

7

‘Jump on behind, ye weill-faurd may,
Or do ye chuse to ride?’
‘No, thank ye, sir,’ the lady said,
‘I rather chuse to wade;’
And afore that he was mid-water,
She was at the ither side.

8

‘Turn back, turn back, ye weill-faurd may,
My heart will brak in three:’
‘And sae did mine in yon bonny hill-side,
Whan ye wad [na] lat me be.’

9

‘Whare gat ye that gay claithing
This day I see on thee?’
‘My mither was a gude milk-nurse,
And a gude nourice was she;
She nursd the Earl of Stockford's daughter,
And gat aw this to me.’

10

Whan she cam to the king's court,
She rappit wi a ring;
Sae ready as the king himsel
Was to let the lady in!

463

11

‘There is a knicht into your court
This day has robbed me:’
‘O has he taen your gowd,’ he says,
‘Or has he taen your fee?’

12

‘He has na taen my gowd,’ she says,
‘Nor yet has he my fee;
But he has taen my maiden-head,
The flowr o my fair bodie.’

13

Then out bespak the queen hersel,
Wha sat by the king's knee:
There's na a knicht in aw our court
Wad hae dune that to thee,
Unless it war my brither, Earl Richard,
And forbid it it war he!

14

Wad ye ken your love,
Amang a hunder men?
‘I wad,’ said the bonnie ladie,
‘Amang five hunder and ten.’

15

The king made aw his merry men pass,
By ane, by twa, and three;
Earl Richard us'd to be the first man,
But he was hinmost man that day.

16

He cam hauping on ane foot,
And winking with ae ee;
But ‘Ha! ha!’ said the bonnie ladie,
‘That same young man are ye.’

17

He's taen her up to a hie towr-head
And offerd her hunder punds in a glove:
‘Gin ye be a courteous maid,
Ye'll choice anither love.’

18

‘What care I for your hunder pund?
Na mair than ye wad for mine;
What's a hunder pund to me,
To a marriage wi a king!’

19

Whan the marriage it was oure,
And ilk ane took them horse,
‘It never set a beggar's brat
At nae knicht's back to be.’

20

The ladie met wi a beggar-wife,
And gied her half o crown:
‘Tell aw your neebours, whan ye gang hame,
That Earl Richard's your gude-son.’

21

‘O hold your tongue, ye beggar's brat,
My heart will brak in three;’
‘And sae did mine on yon bonny hill-side,
Whan ye wad na let me be.’

22

Whan she cam to yon nettle-dyke, [OMITTED]
‘An my auld mither she was here,
Sae weill as she wad ye pu.

23

‘She wad boil ye weill, and butter ye weill,
And sup till she war fu,
And lay her head upon her dish-doup,
And sleep like onie sow.’

24

Whan she cam to Earl Richard's house,
The sheets war holland fine:
‘O haud awa thae linen sheets,
And bring to me the linsey clouts
I hae been best used in.’

25

[‘Awa, awa wi your siller spoons,
Haud them awa frae me;
It would set me better to feed my flocks
Wi the brose-cap on my knee:
Sae bring to me the gude ram's horn,
The spoons I've been used wi.’]

26

‘Hold your tongue, ye beggar's brat,
My heart will brak in three;’
‘And sae did mine on yon bonnie hillside,
Whan ye wadna lat me be.’

27

‘I wish I had drank the well-water
Whan first I drank the wine!
Never a shepherd's dochter
Wad hae been a love o mine.

28

‘O I wish I'd drank the well-water
Whan first I drank the beer,
That ever a shepherd's dochter
Shoud hae been my only dear!’
[OMITTED]

29

‘Ye'll turn about, Earl Richard,
And mak some mair o me;
An ye mak me lady o ae puir plow,
I can mak ye laird o three.’

30

‘If ye be the Earl of Stockford's dochter,
As I've taen some thouchts ye be,
Aft hae I waited at your father's yett,
But your face I coud never see.’

464

THE KNIGHT AND SHEPHERD'S DAUGHTER—D

[_]

Kinloch's MSS, VII, 68; apparently from the recitation of Jenny Watson of Lanark, aged seventy-three. Only such portions of this version were preserved as differed considerably from C.

[OMITTED]

1

And he was never sae discreet
As bid her loup on and ride,
And she was neer sae meanly bred
As for to bid him bide.

2

And whan she cam to yon water,
It was running like a flude:
‘I've learned it in my mither's bouer,
I've learned it for my gude,
That I can soum this wan water
Like a fish in a flude.

3

‘I've learned it in my father's bouer,
I've learned it for my better,
And I will soum this wan water
As tho I was ane otter.’
[OMITTED]

4

‘Gude day, gude day, my liege the king,
Gude day, gude day, to thee;’
‘Gude day,’ quo he, ‘my lady fair,
What want ye wi me?’
[OMITTED]

5

‘Gin he be a single man,
His bodie I'll gie thee;
But gin he be a married man,
I'll hang him on a tree.’
[OMITTED]

6

He's powd out a hundred punds,
Weel lockit in a glove;
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

7

‘I'll hae nane o your gowd,’ she said,
‘Nor either o your fee;
But I will hae your ain bodie
The king has granted me.’

8

‘O was ye gentle gotten, maid?
Or was ye gentle born?
Or hae ye onie gerss growing?
Or hae ye onie corn?

9

‘Or hae ye onie lands or rents,
Lying at libertie?
Or hae ye onie education,
To dance alang wi me?’

10

‘I was na gentle gotten, madam,
Nor was I gentle born;
Neither hae I gerss growing,
Nor hae I onie corn.

11

‘I have na onie lands or rents,
Lying at libertie;
Nor hae I onie education,
To dance alang wi thee.’

12

He lap on ae milk-white steed,
And she lap on anither,
And then the twa rade out the way
Like sister and like brither.

13

And whan she cam to Tyne's water,
She wililie did say,
Fareweil, ye mills o Tyne's water,
With thee I bid gude-day.

14

Fareweil, ye mills o Tyne's water,
To you I bid gud-een,
Whare monie a day I hae filld my pock,
Baith at midnicht and at een.
[OMITTED]

15

Whan they cam to her father's yett,
She tirled on the pin;
And an auld belly-blind man was sitting there,
As they war entering in.

16

‘The meetest marriage,’ the belly-blind did cry,
‘Atween the ane and the ither,
Atween the Earl of Stockford's dochter
And the Queen o England's brither.’

465

Earl Richard, the Queen's Brother

THE KNIGHT AND SHEPHERD'S DAUGHTER—E

[_]

a. Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 81, from Mr Nicol of Strichen, as learned in his youth from old people. b. Motherwell's MS., p. 459, derived, no doubt, from Buchan.

1

Earl Richard, once upon a day,
And all his valiant men so wight,
He did him down to Barnisdale,
Where all the land is fair and light.

2

He was aware of a damosel —
I wot fast on she did her bound —
With towers of gold upon her head,
As fair a woman as could be found.

3

He said, Busk on you, fair ladye,
The white flowers and the red;
For I would give my bonnie ship
To get your maidenhead.

4

‘I wish your bonnie ship rent and rive,
And drown you in the sea;
For all this would not mend the miss
That ye would do to me.’
‘The miss is not so great, ladye;
Soon mended it might be.

5

‘I have four an twenty mills in Scotland,
Stands on the water of Tay;
You'll have them, and as much flour
As they'll grind in a day.’

6

‘I wish your bonnie ship rent and rive,
And drown you in the sea;
For all that would not mend the miss
That ye would do to me.’
‘The miss is not so great, ladye;
Soon mended it will be.

7

‘I have four an twenty milk-white cows,
All calved in a day;
You'll have them, and as much haind grass
As they all on can gae.’

8

‘I wish your bonnie ship rent and rive,
And drown you in the sea;
For all that would not mend the miss
That ye would do to me.’
‘The miss is not so great, ladye;
Soon mended it might be.

9

‘I have four an twenty milk-white steeds,
All foaled in one year;
You'll have them, and as much red gold
As all their backs can bear.’

10

She turned her right and round about,
And she swore by the mold;
‘I would not be your love,’ said she,
‘For that church full of gold.’

11

He turned him right and round about,
And he swore by the mess;
Says, Ladye, ye my love shall be,
And gold ye shall have less.

12

She turned her right and round about,
And she swore by the moon;
‘I would not be your love,’ says she,
‘For all the gold in Rome.’

13

He turned him right and round about,
And he swore by the moon;
Says, Ladye, ye my love shall be,
And gold ye shall have none.

14

He caught her by the milk-white hand,
And by the grass-green sleeve,
And there has taken his will of her,
Wholly without her leave.

15

The ladye frownd, and sadly blushd,
And oh, but she thought shame!
Says, If you are a knight at all,
You surely will tell me your name.

16

‘In some places they call me Jack,
In other some they call me John;
But when into the queen's court,
O then Lithcock it is my name!’

17

‘Lithcock! Lithcock!’ the ladye said,
And oft she spelt it ower again;
‘Lithcock! it's Latin,’ the ladye said,
‘Richard's the English of that name.’

18

The knight he rode, the ladye ran,
A live-long summer's day,
Till they came to the wan water
That all men do call Tay.

19

He set his horse head to the water,
Just thro it for to ride,
And the ladye was as ready as him
The waters for to wade.

466

20

For he had never been as kind-hearted
As to bid the ladye ride,
And she had never been so low-hearted
As for to bid him bide.

21

But deep into the wan water
There stands a great big stone;
He turned his wight horse head about,
Said, Ladye fair, will ye loup on?

22

She's taken the wand was in her hand
And struck it on the faem,
And before he got the middle-stream
The ladye was on dry land:
‘By help of God and our Lady,
My help lyes not in your hand!

23

‘I learned it from my mother dear,
Few are there that have learned better,
When I come to deep water,
I can swim thro like ony otter.

24

‘I learned it from my mother dear,
I find I learnd it for my weel,
When I come to a deep water,
I can swim thro like ony eel.’

25

‘Turn back, turn back, you ladye fair,
You know not what I see;
There is a ladye in that castle
That will burn you and me.’
‘Betide me weel, betide me wae,
That ladye I will see.’

26

She took a ring from her finger,
And gave it the porter for his fee;
Says, Take you that, my good porter,
And bid the queen speak to me.

27

And when she came before the queen,
There she fell low down on her knee;
Says, There is a knight into your court
This day has robbed me.

28

‘O has he robbed you of your gold,
Or has he robbed you of your fee?’
‘He has not robbed me of my gold,
He has not robbed me of my fee;
He has robbed me of my maidenhead,
The fairest flower of my bodie.’

29

‘There is no knight in all my court,
That thus has robbed thee,
But you'll have the truth of his right hand,
Or else for your sake he'll die:

30

‘Tho it were Earl Richard, my own brother,
And, Oh, forbid that it be!’
Then sighing said the ladye fair,
I wot the same man is he.

31

The queen called on her merry men,
Even fifty men and three;
Earl Richard used to be the first man.
But now the hindmost man was he.

32

He's taken out one hundred pounds.
And told it in his glove;
Says, Take you that, my ladye fair,
And seek another love.

33

‘Oh, no! oh, no!’ the ladye cried,
‘That's what shall never be;
I'll have the truth of your right hand,
The queen it gave to me.’

34

[‘I wish I'd drunken your water, sister,
When I did drink thus of your ale,
That for a carl's fair daughter
It does me gar dree all this bale!]

35

‘I wish I had drunk of your water, sister,
When I did drink your wine,
That for a carle's fair daughter
It does gar me dree all this pine!’

36

‘May be I am a carle's daughter,
And may be never nane;
When ye met me in the greenwood,
Why did you not let me alane?’

37

‘Will you wear the short clothes,
Or will you wear the side?
Or will you walk to your wedding,
Or will you till it ride?’

38

‘I will not wear the short clothes,
But I will wear the side;
I will not walk to my wedding,
But I to it will ride.’

39

When he was set upon the horse,
The lady him behin,
Then cauld and eerie were the words
The twa had them between.

467

40

She said, Good e'en, ye nettles tall,
Just there where ye grow at the dyke;
If the auld carline my mother were here,
Sae weel's she would your pates pyke!

41

How she would stap you in her poke —
I wot at that she wadna fail —
And boil ye in her auld brass pan,
And of ye make right good kail!

42

And she would meal you with millering,
That she gathers at the mill,
And make you thick as ony daigh:
And when the pan was brimful,

43

Would mess you up in scuttle-dishes,
Syne bid us sup till we were fou,
Lay down her head upon a poke,
Then sleep and snore like ony sow.

44

‘Away, away, you bad woman!
For all your vile words grieveth me;
When you hide so little for yourself,
I'm sure ye'll hide far less for me.

45

‘I wish I had drunk your water, sister,
When that I did drink of your wine,
Since for a carle's fair daughter,
It aye gars me dree all this pine.’

46

‘May be I am a carle's daughter,
And may be never nane;
When ye met me in the good greenwood,
Why did you not let me alane?

47

‘Gude een, gude een, ye heather-berries,
As ye're growing on yon hill;
If the auld carline and her bags were here,
I wot she would get meat her fill.

48

‘Late, late at night, I knit our pokes,
With even four an twenty knots;
And in the morn at breakfast time
I'll carry the keys of an earl's locks.

49

‘Late, late at night, I knit our pokes,
With even four an twenty strings;
And if you look to my white fingers,
They have as many gay gold rings.’

50

‘Away, away, ye ill woman!
So sore your vile words grieveth me;
When you hide so little for yourself,
I'm sure ye'll hide far less for me.

51

‘But if you are a carle's daughter,
As I take you to be,
How did you get the gay cloathing
In greenwood ye had on thee?’

52

‘My mother, she's a poor woman,
She nursed earl's children three,
And I got them from a foster-sister,
For to beguile such sparks as thee.’

53

‘But if you be a carle's daughter,
As I believe you be,
How did you learn the good Latin
In greenwood ye spoke to me?’

54

‘My mother, she's a mean woman,
She nursd earl's children three;
I learnt it from their chaplain,
To beguile such sparks as ye.’

55

When mass was sung, and bells were rung,
And all men bound for bed,
Then Earl Richard and this ladye
In ae bed they were laid.

56

He turned his face unto the stock,
And she her's to the stane,
And cauld and dreary was the love
That was these twa between.

57

Great mirth was in the kitchen,
Likewise intill the ha,
But in his bed lay Earl Richard,
Wiping the tears awa.

58

He wept till he fell fast asleep,
Then slept till light was come;
Then he did hear the gentlemen
That talked in the room:

59

Said, Saw ye ever a fitter match,
Betwixt the ane and ither,
The king of Scotland's fair dochter
And the queen of England's brither?

60

‘And is she the king o Scotland's fair dochter?
This day, O weel is me!
For seven times has my steed been saddled,
To come to court with thee;
And with this witty lady fair,
How happy must I be!’

468

Earl Lithgow

THE KNIGHT AND SHEPHERD'S DAUGHTER—F

[_]

a. Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 91; from the recitation of an old person. b. Christie's Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 184.

1

Earl Lithgow he's a hunting gane,
Upon a summer's day,
And he's fa'en in with a weel-far'd maid,
Was gathering at the slaes.

2

He's taen her by the milk-white hand,
And by the grass-green sleeve;
He led her to the foot of a tree,
At her he spierd nae leave.

3

The lassie being well learned,
She turned her right around;
Says, Will ye be as good, kind sir,
As tell to me your name?

4

‘Whiles they call me Jack,’ he says,
‘And whiles they call me John;
But when I'm in the queen's high court,
Earl Litchcock is my name.’

5

The lassie being well learned,
She spelld it ower again;
Says, Litchcock is a Latin word,
But Lithgow is your name.

6

The lassie being well learned,
She spelld it ower again;
Says, Lithgow is a gentle word,
But Richard is your name.

7

She has kilted her green claithing
A little abeen her knee;
The gentleman rode, and the lassie ran,
Till at the water o Dee.

8

When they were at the water o Dee,
And at the narrow side,
He turned about his high horse head,
Says, Lassie, will ye ride?

9

‘I learned it in my mother's bower,
I wish I had learned it better,
When I came to this wan water,
To swim like ony otter.

10

‘I learned it in my mother's bower,
I wish I had learned it weel,
That when I came to a wan water,
To swim like ony eel.’

11

She has kilted her green claithing
A little abeen her knee;
The gentleman rode, the lassie swam,
Thro the water o Dee:
Before he was at the middle o the water,
At the other side was she.

12

She sat there and drest hersell,
And sat upon a stone;
There she sat to rest hersell,
And see how he'd come on.

13

‘How mony miles hae ye to ride?
How mony hae I to gang?’
‘I've thirty miles to ride,’ he says,
‘And ye've as mony to gang.’

14

‘If ye've thirty miles to ride,’ she says,
‘And I've as mony to gae,
Ye'll get leave to gang yoursell;
It will never be gane by me.’

15

She's gane to the queen's high court,
And knocked at the pin;
Who was sae ready as the proud porter,
To let this lady in!

16

She's put her hand in her pocket,
And gien him guineas three:
‘Ye will gang to the queen hersell,
And tell her this frae me.

17

‘There is a lady at your yetts
Can neither card nor spin;
But she can sit in a lady's bower,
And lay gold on a seam.’

18

He's gane ben thro ae lang room,
And he's gane ben thro twa,
Till he came to a lang, lang trance,
And then came to the ha.

19

When he came before the queen,
Sat low down on his knee:
‘Win up, win up, my proud porter,
What makes this courtesie?’

20

‘There is a lady at your yetts
Can neither card nor spin;
But she can sit in a lady's bower,
And lay gold on a seam.’

21

‘If there is a lady at my yetts
That cannot card nor spin,

469

Ye'll open my yetts baith wide and braid,
And let this lady in.’

22

Now she has gane ben thro ae room,
And she's gane ben thro twa,
And she gaed ben a lang, lang trance,
Till she came to the ha.

23

When she came before the queen,
Sat low down on her knee:
‘Win up, win up, my fair woman,
What makes such courtesie?’

24

‘My errand it's to thee, O queen,
My errand it's to thee;
There is a man within your courts
This day has robbed me.’

25

‘O has he taen your purse, your purse,
Or taen your penny-fee?
Or has he taen your maidenhead,
The flower of your bodie?’

26

‘He hasna taen my purse, my purse,
Nor yet my penny-fee,
But he has taen my maidenhead,
The flower of my bodi’

27

‘It is if he be a batchelor,
Your husband he shall be;
But if he be a married man,
High hanged he shall be.

28

‘Except it be my brother, Litchcock,
I hinna will it be he;’
Sighd and said that gay lady,
That very man is he.

29

She's calld on her merry men a',
By ane, by twa, by three;
Earl Litchcock used to be the first,
But the hindmost man was he.

30

He came cripple on the back,
Stane blind upon an ee;
And sighd and said Earl Richard,
I doubt this calls for me.

31

He's laid down a brand, a brand,
And next laid down a ring;
It's thrice she minted to the brand,
But she's taen up the ring:
There's not a knight in a' the court,
But calld her a wise woman.

32

He's taen out a purse of gold,
And tauld it on a stane;
Says, Take ye that, my fair woman,
And ye'll frae me be gane.

33

‘I will hae nane o your purse[s] o gold,
That ye tell on a stane;
But I will hae yoursell,’ she says,
‘Another I'll hae nane.’

34

He has taen out another purse,
And tauld it in a glove;
Says, Take ye that, my fair woman,
And choice another love.

35

‘I'll hae nane o your purses o gold,
That ye tell in a glove;
But I will hae yoursell,’ she says,
‘I'll hae nae ither love.’

36

But he's taen out another purse,
And tauld it on his knee;
Said, Take ye that, ye fair woman,
Ye'll get nae mair frae me.

37

‘I'll hae nane o your purses o gold,
That ye tell on your knee;
But I will hae yoursell,’ she says,
‘The queen has granted it me.’

38

‘O will ye hae the short claithing,
Or will ye hae the side?
Or will ye gang to your wedding,
Or will ye to it ride?’

39

‘I winna hae the short claithing,
But I will hae the side;
I winna gang to my wedding,
But to it I will ride.’

40

The first town that they came till
They made the mass be sung,
And the next town that they came till
They made the bells be rung.

41

And the next town that they came till
He bought her gay claithing,
And the next town that they came till
They held a fair wedding.

42

When they came to Mary-kirk,
The nettles grew on the dyke:
‘If my auld mither, the carlin, were here,
Sae well's she would you pyke.

470

43

‘Sae well's she would you pyke,’ she says,
‘She woud you pyke and pou,
And wi the dust lyes in the mill
Sae woud she mingle you.

44

‘She'd take a speen intill her hand,
And sup ere she be fou,
Syne lay her head upon a sod,
And snore like ony sow.’

45

When she came to yon mill-dams,
Says, Weel may ye clap;
I wyte my minnie neer gaed by you
Wanting mony a lick.

46

He's drawn his hat out ower his face,
Muckle shame thought he;
She's driven her cap out ower her locks,
And a light laugh gae she.

47

When they were wedded, and well bedded,
And hame at dinner set,
Then out it spake our bride hersell,
And she spake never blate.

48

Put far awa your china plates,
Put them far awa frae me,
And bring to me my humble gockies,
That I was best used wi.

49

Put far awa your siller speens,
Had them far awa frae me,
And bring to me my horn cutties,
That I was best used wi.

50

When they were dined and well served,
And to their dancing set,
Out it spake our bride again,
For she spake never blate.

51

If the auld carlin, my mither, were here,
As I trust she will be,
She'll fear the dancing frae us a',
And gar her meal-bags flee.

52

When bells were rung, and mass was sung,
And a' men bound for rest,
Earl Richard and the beggar's daughter
In ae chamber were placed.

53

‘Had far awa your fine claithing,
Had them far awa frae me,
And bring to me my fleachy clouts,
That I was best used wi.

54

‘Had far awa your holland sheets,
Had them far awa frae me,
And bring to me my canvas clouts,
That I was best used wi.

55

‘Lay a pock o meal beneath my head,
Another aneath my feet,
A pock o seeds beneath my knees,
And soundly will I sleep.’

56

‘Had far awa, ye carlin's get,
Had far awa frae me;
It disna set a carlin's get
My bed-fellow to be.’

57

‘It's may be I'm a carlin's get,
And may be I am nane;
But when ye got me in good greenwood,
How letna you me alane?’

58

‘It is if you be a carlin's get,
As I trust well ye be,
Where got ye all the gay claithing
You brought to greenwood with thee?’

59

‘My mother was an auld nourice,
She nursed bairns three;
And whiles she got, and whiles she staw,
And she kept them a' for me;
And I put them on in good greenwood,
To beguile fause squires like thee.’

60

It's out then spake the Billy-Blin,
Says, I speak nane out of time;
If ye make her lady o nine cities,
She'll make you lord o ten.

61

Out it spake the Billy-Blin,
Says, The one may serve the other;
The King of Gosford's ae daughter,
And the Queen of Scotland's brother.

62

‘Wae but worth you, Billy-Blin,
An ill death may ye die!
My bed-fellow he'd been for seven years
Or he'd kend sae muckle frae me.’

63

‘Fair fa ye, ye Billy-Blin,
And well may ye aye be!
In my stable is the ninth horse I've killd,
Seeking this fair ladie:
Now we're married, and now we're bedded,
And in each other's arms shall lie.’

471

Jo Janet

THE KNIGHT AND SHEPHERD'S DAUGHTER—G

[_]

Gibb MS., No 1. From recitation; traced to Mrs E. Lindsay, about 1800.

1

Jo Janet has to the greenwood gane,
Wi a' her maidens free,
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

2

‘Some ca me Jack, some ca me John,
Some ca me Jing-ga-lee,
But when I am in the queen's court
Earl Hitchcock they ca me.’

3

‘Hitchcock, Hitchcock,’ Jo Janet she said,
An spelled it ower agane,
‘Hitchcock it's a Latin word;
Earl Richard is your name.’

4

But when he saw she was book-learned,
Fast to his horse hied he;
But she kilted up her gay claithing,
An fast, fast followed she.

5

Aye he rade, an aye she ran,
The live-lang simmer's day,
Till they came to the wan water,
An a' men call it Tay.

6

She has tane the narrow fuird,
An he has tane the wide,
An ere he was in the middle-water,
Jo Janet was at the ither side.

7

[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
As swift as eel or otter.

8

An when she cam to the queen's court
She tirled at the pin,
An wha sae ready as the queen hersel
To let Jo Janet in!

9

[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
‘There is a knicht into your court
This day has robbed me.’

10

‘Has he robbed you o your gold, fair may,
Or robbed you o your fee?
Or robbed you o your maidenhead,
The flower o your bodie?’

11

‘He has nae robbed me o my gold,’ she said,
‘Nor o my weel won fee,
But he has robbed me o my maidenhead,
The flower o my bodie.’

12

‘It's if he be a married knight,
It's hanged he shall be;
But if he be a single knight,
It's married ye sall be.

13

‘There's but three knichts into my court
This day hae been frae me,
An ane is Earl Richard, my brither,
An I hope it is na he:’
Then sichin said Jo Janet,
The very same man is he.

14

The queen has called on her merry men
By thirty and by three;
He wont to be the foremost man,
But hinmost in cam he.

15

‘Is this your tricks abroad, Richard,
Is this your tricks abroad,
Wheneer ye meet a bonny may
To lay her on the road?’
[OMITTED]

16

But he took out a purse o gold, [OMITTED]
Says, Tak you that, my bonny may,
An seek nae mair o me.

17

‘I winna hae your gold,’ she said,
‘I winna hae your fee;
I'll hae the troth o your right hand
The queen has promised me.’
[OMITTED]

18

As they rade bye yon bonny mill-town
Sae fair's the nettles grew;
Quoth she, If my auld mither were here,
Sae finely's she wad you pu.

19

She wad you nip, she wad you clip,
Sae finely's she wad you pu,
An pit you on in a wee, wee pat,
An sup till she were fu,

472

Syne rowe her heid in her gown-tail,
An sleep like ony soo.

20

He drew his hat down ower his broos,
An a doon look gae he,
But she threw her locks out ower her cocks,
An nae ways dung was she.

21

‘It's if ye be a beggar's brat,
As I dout na but ye be,
It's where gat ye the gay claithing
That hings down to your knee?’

22

‘My mither was nurse to Earl Marshall's dother,
An a fine lady is she,
An aye when she gets new claithing
She casts the auld to me:’
An sichin said Earl Richard,
My ain true-love is she!

23

But if you be a beggar's brat,
As I doutna but ye be,
Where got ye the Latin words
Ye said in greenwood to me?

24

‘My mither was a bad woman,
She served sic men as thee,
An a' the gear at ever she got
She waired it a' on me,
An learned me weel the Latin tongue,
To beguile sic sparks as thee.’

25

‘Awa, awa, ye ill woman,
An ill death mat ye dee!
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

26

When they were a' at supper set,
An siller spoons gaen roun,
It's, ‘Haud awa yer siller spoons,
Haud them far awa frae me,
An bring to me a guid ramshorn,
The thing I'm best used wi.’

27

An when they were at supper set,
An the ale-caup gaen about,
She took it in her arms twa,
An sae clean's she lickit it oot.

28

He drew his hat doun ower his broos,
An a doun look gae he,
But she threw her locks out ower her cocks,
An nae ways dung was she.

29

When mass was sung, and bells were rung,
An a' men boun to bed,
Earl Richard an Jo Janet
In ae bed they were laid.

30

He turned his face unto the stock,
An sair, sair did he weep;
She turned her face unto the wa,
An sound she fell asleep.

31

[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
The Billie Blin stood up at their bed-feet.

32

Said, Saw ye ever a fitter match
Atween the tane and the tither,
The Earl Marshall['s] ae dother
An the Queen o Scotland's brither?

33

‘Wae be to you for an ill woman,
An ill death mat ye dee!
For mony's the mare and mare's foal
I've bursten seekin thee.’

34

[OMITTED] a cup o wine,
Quoth, Here's to thee and me!
If ye mak me lady o ae puir pleugh,
I'll mak ye lord o three.

The Shepherd's Daughter

THE KNIGHT AND SHEPHERD'S DAUGHTER—H

[_]

Kinloch's MSS, V, 20, in the handwriting of Mr James Beattie, 1820, and from the recitation of one of the Miss Beatties, his aunts, native in The Mearns: also Kinloch MS., VII, 61, and Kinloch's Scottish Ballads, p. 25.

1

There was a shepherd's daughter,
Kept sheep on yonder hill;
There came a knight o courage bright,
And he wad have his will. Diddle, &c.

2

He's taen her by the milk-white hand,
Gien her a gown o green;
‘O take you that, fair may,’ he says,
‘There's nae mair o me to be seen.’

473

3

‘Since ye have taen your wills o me,
Your wills o me you've taen,
Since ye have taen your wills o me,
Pray tell to me your name.’

4

‘O some they call me Jack, lady,
And others call me John;
But when I'm in the king's court,
Sweet William is my name.’

5

She's kilted up her green clothing
A little below her knee,
And she is to the king's court,
As fast as she could gae.

6

And when she came unto the king,
She knelt low on her knee:
‘There is a man into your court
This day has robbed me.’

7

‘Has he robbd you of your gold,’ he says,
‘Or of your white monie?
Or robbd you of the flowery branch,
The flower of your bodie?’

8

‘He has not robbd me of my gold,’ she says,
‘Nor of my white monie,
But he's robbd me of the flowery branch,
The flower of my bodie.’

9

‘O if he be a bond-man,
High hanged shall he be;
But if he be a free man,
He'se well provide for thee.’

10

The king's called on his nobles all,
By thirty and by three;
Sweet William should have been the foremost man,
But the hindmost man was he.

11

‘Do you not mind yon shepherd's daughter,
You met on yonder hill?
When a' her flocks were feeding round,
Of her you took your will.’

12

And he's taen out a purse o gold,
And tied up in a glove;
‘Take you that, fair may,’ he says,
‘And choice for you a love.’

13

O he's taen out three hundred pounds,
Tied up in a purse;
‘See, take you that, fair may,’ he says,
‘And that will pay the nurse.’

14

‘I'll neither have your gold,’ she says,
‘Nor yet your white monie,
But I will have the king's grant,
That he has granted me.’

15

Then he's taen her on a milk-white steed,
Himsell upon another,
And to his castle they have rode,
Like sister and like brother.

16

O ilka nettle that they came to,
‘O well mote you grow!
For mony a day's my minny and me
Pilkit at your pow.’

17

O ilka mill that they came to,
‘O well mote you clack!
For monie a day's my minnie and me
Buckled up our lap.’
[OMITTED]

18

‘You're the king of England's ae brother,
I trust well that you be;
I'm the Earl of Stampford's ae daughter,
And he has nae mair but me.’

19

O saw you eer such a near marriage,
Between the one and the other,
The Earl of Stampford's ae daughter,
And the King of England's brother!

474

THE KNIGHT AND SHEPHERD'S DAUGHTER—I

[_]

Communicated by Dr Thomas Davidson, from his own recollection; Aberdeenshire.

1

There was a shepherd's daughter,
Kept flocks on yonder hill,
And by there cam a courteous knight,
Wud fain and hae his will.
[OMITTED]

2

‘Some do ca me Jock,’ he said,
‘And some do ca me John,
But when I do ride i the king's high court,
Gulelmus is my name.’
[OMITTED]

3

And when she came to the kinges court
She tirled at the pin,
And wha was there but the king himsel,
To lat this fair maid in!

4

‘Now Christ you save, my lord,’ she said,
‘Now Christ you save and see;
There is a knicht into your court
This day has robbed me.

5

‘He's na robbed me o my silken purse,
Nor o my white money,
But he's robbed me o my maidenheid,
The flower o my bodie.’

6

‘O gin he be a single man,
Weel married sall ye be,
But an he be a married man,
He's hang upon a tree.’

7

Then he called up his merry men a',
By one, by two, and by three,
And William should a been the first,
But the hindmost man was he.

8

And he cam hirplin on a stick,
And blin upon an ee,
But sighand said that gay ladie,
That same man robbed me.
[OMITTED]

9

‘Gin I had drunk the wan water,
When I did drink the wine,
A cairdman's daughter
Should never be a true-love o mine.’

10

‘Maybe I'm a cairdman's daughter,
And maybe I am nane;
But when ye did come to good green wood,
Ye sud hae latten me alane.’

11

She set upon a milk-white steed,
An himsel on a dapple grey,
An she had as much lan in fair Scotlan
'S ye cud ride in a lang simmer's day.

Earl Richard

THE KNIGHT AND SHEPHERD'S DAUGHTER—J

[_]

Dr Joseph Robertson's Journal of Excursions, No 7. Taken down from a man in the parish of Leochel, Aberdeenshire, February 12, 1829.

[OMITTED]

1

Some ca'ss me James, some ca'as me John,
I carena what they ca me,
But when I [am] at hame in my ain country,
It's Lispcock that they ca me.’

2

The lassie being well beuk-learned,
She spelled it ower again;
Says, Lispcock in a Latin beuk
Spells Erl Richard in plain.

3

[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
The lassie kilted up her green claithing,
And fast, fast followed on.

4

Till they cam till a wide water,
[OMITTED]
He's turned his hie horse head about,
Says, Lassie will ye ride?

5

‘I learned it in my mother's bower,
I wish I'd learned it better,
Whanever I cam to any wide water,
To soum like ony otter.’

6

The laird he chused the ford to ride,
The ladie the pot to swim,

475

And or the laird was half water,
The ladie was on dry lan.

7

O he rade on to yon hie castell,
He rade it richt and roun about;
The laird gaed in at ae back-door,
But the ladie beet to knock.

8

O out it cam the proud porter,
Wi his hat into his han,
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

9

She's pitten her hand in her pocket,
Pulld out guineas three,
And that she's given to the proud porter,
To cause her to get entrance there.

10

The proud porter ran up the stair,
O fifteen steps he made but three:
‘The prettiest lady stands at yer yetts
That ever my een did see.’

11

[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
‘Goe doun, goe doun, you proud porter,
Cause her to cum up to me.’

12

When she gaed in before the queen,
She fell low down on her knee:
‘There is a man into your courts
This day has robbed me.’

13

‘Has he robbed you o your fine clothing,
Or o your white monie?
Or taen frae you your maidenhead,
The flower o your bodie?’

14

‘He hasna robbed me o my fine clothing,
Nor o my white monie,
But he's taen frae me my maidenhead,
The flower o my bodie.’

15

‘O gin he be a married man,
High hanged sall he be;
And gin he be a batchelere,
Well wedded shall ye be.’

16

O she has called in her merry young men,
By thirties and by threes;
Earl Richard should hae been the foremost man,
But the hindmost man was he.

17

He cam limpin on a staff,
And blinkin on an ee,
And sichand says that gay ladie,
That samen man is he.
[OMITTED]

The Knight and the Shepherd's Daughter

THE KNIGHT AND SHEPHERD'S DAUGHTER—K

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 226. From the recitation of Widow McCormick, Westbrae, Paisley, 1825; learned of an old woman in Dumbarton, thirty or forty years before.

1

There was a shepherd's daughter,
Kept sheep on yonder hill;
O by comes a courtier,
And fain wud hae his will.
We'll go no more a roving,
A roving in the night,
We'll go no more a roving,
Let the moon shine neer so bright.
O we'll go [no] more a roving.

2

He took her by the middle so small,
And by the grass-green sleeve;
He bended her body unto the ground,
And of her parents he askd no leave.

3

‘Now since you've got your will o me,
And brought my fair bodie to shame,
All the request I ask of you is,
Pray tell me what's your name.’

4

‘O some do call me Jack,’ he says,
‘And some do call me John,
But when I am in the king's court,
My name is Sweet William.’

5

She took her petticoats by the band,
Her mantle oer her arm,
And she's awa to the king's court,
As fast as she could run.

6

When she came to the king's court,
She tinkled at the ring;
Who was so ready as the king himsel
To let this fair maid in!

476

7

And when she came before the king,
She kneeled low by his knee;
‘What's this? what's this, fair maid,’ he says,
‘What's this you ask of me?’

8

[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
‘There is a knight into your court
This day has robbed me.’

9

‘If he robbed you of your gold,’ he said,
‘It's hanged he must be;
If he's robbed you of your maidenhead,
His body I grant to thee.’

10

‘He's not robbed me of my gold,’ she said,
‘Nor of my white money,
But he's robbed me of my maidenhead,
The flower of my bodie.’

11

He's called down his merry men all,
By one, by two, by three;
John used to be the foremost man,
But the hindmost man was he.

12

He took a long purse of gold
And wrapped it in a glove:
‘Here's to thee, my dearest dear,
Go seek some other love.’

13

‘I'll have none of your gold,’ she says,
‘Nor any of your white money,
But I'll just have your own bodie
The king has granted to me.’

14

‘I wish I was drinking the well-water
When I drank of the ale,
Before a shepherd's daughter
Would tell me such a tale.’

15

He got her on a milk-white steed,
Himself upon a grey, Then on a day [OMITTED]
This couple rode away.

16

It's when they were coming by the nettlebush,
She said, So well may you grow!
For many a day my mammy and me
Hae pickled at your pow.

17

When they cam by the mill-door, she said,
So well may you clatter!
For many a day my mammy and me
Pickled at your happer.

18

When they came to the king's court,
They reckoned up their kin;
She was a king's one dochter,
And he but a blacksmith's son.

THE KNIGHT AND SHEPHERD'S DAUGHTER—L

[_]

Motherwell's Note-Book, p. 1, recited by Miss Brown, of Glasgow, after a blind aunt.

[OMITTED]

1

I learned it in my father's bower,
And I learned it for the better,
That every water I coudna wade,
I swam it like an otter.
With my low silver ee.

2

‘I learned it in my father's bower,
And I learned it for my weel,
That every water I coudna wade,
I swam it like an eel.’

3

And he cam hirpling on a stick,
And leaning on a tree:
‘Be he cripple, or be he blind,
The same man is he.’

477

Earl Richmond

THE KNIGHT AND SHEPHERD'S DAUGHTER—M

[_]

“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 81, Abbotsford; in the handwriting of James Skene of Rubislaw.

1

There was a shepherd's daughter
Kept hogs upo yon hill,
By cam her a gentle knight,
And he would hae his will.

2

Whan his will o her he had,
[His will] as he had taen,
‘Kind sir, for yer courtesy,
Will ye tell me yer name?’
[OMITTED]

3

‘Some they ca me Jock,’ he says,
‘And some they ca me John;
But whan'm in our king's court
Hitchcock is my name.’


4

The lady being well book-read,
She spelt it oer again:
‘Hitchcock in our king's court
Is Earl Richard at hame.’

5

He pat his leg out-oer his steed
And to the get he's gane;
She keltit up her green clothing,
And fast, fast followed him.

6

‘Turn back, turn back, ye carl's daughter,
And dinna follow me;
It sets na carl's daughters
Kings' courts for to see.’

7

‘Perhaps I am a cerl's daughter,
Perhaps I am nane,
But whan ye gat me in free forest
Ye might ha latten's alane.’

8

Whan they cam to yon wan water
That a' man does call Clyde,
He looket oer his left shuder,
Says, Fair may, will ye ride?

9

‘I learnt it in my mother's bowr,
I wis I had learnt it better,
Whan I cam to wan water
To soom as does the otter.’

10

Or the knight was i the middle o the water,
The lady she was oer;
She took out a came o gold,
To came down her yellow hair.

11

‘Whar gat ye that, ye cerl's daughter?
I pray ye tell to me:’
‘I got it fra my mither,’ she says,
‘To beguil sick chaps as thee.’

12

Whan they cam to our king's court,
He rade it round about,
And he gade in at a shot-window,
And left the lady without.

13

She gade to our king hersel,
She fell low down upon her knee:
‘There is a knight into your court
This day has robbed me.’

14

‘Has he robbd ye o your goud?
Or o yer well-won fee?
Or o yer maidenhead,
The flower o yer body?’

15

‘He has na robbd me o my goud,
For I ha nane to gee;
But he has robbd me o my maidenhead,
The flower o my body.’

16

‘O wud ye ken the knight,’ he says,
‘If that ye did him see?’
‘I wud him ken by his well-fared face
And the blyth blink o his ee.’

17

‘An he be a married man,
High hanged sall he be,
And an he be a free man,
Well wedded to him ye's be,
Altho it be my brother Richie,
And I wiss it be no he.’

18

The king called on his merry young men,
By ane, by twa, by three;
Earl Richmond had used to be the first,
But the hindmost was he.

19

By that ye mith ha well kent
That the guilty man was he;
She took him by the milk-white hand,
Says, This same ane is he.

20

There was a brand laid down to her,
A brand but an a ring,
Three times she minted to the brand,
But she took up the ring;
A' that was in our king's court
Countet her a wise woman.

21

‘I'll gi ye five hundred pounds,
To mak yer marriage we,
An ye'l turn back, ye cerl's daughter,
And fash nae mere wi me.’

22

‘Gae keep yer five hundred pounds
To mak yer merriage we,
For I'll hae nathing but yersel
The king he promised me.’

23

‘I'll gae ye one thousand pounds
To mak yer marriage we,
An ye'l turn back, ye cerl's daughter,
And fash nae mere wi me.’

24

‘Gae keep yer one thousand pounds,
To mak yer merriage we,
For I'll hae nathing but yersel
The king he promised me.’


25

He took her down to yon garden,
And clothed her in the green;
Whan she cam up again,
Sh[e] was fairer than the queen.

26

They gad on to Mary kirk, and on to Mary quire,
The nettles they grew by the dyke:
‘O, an my mither wer her[e],
So clean as she wud them pick!’

27

‘I wiss I had druken water,’ he says,
‘Whan I drank the ale,
That ony cerl's daughter
Sud tell me sick a tale.’

28

‘Perhaps I am a cerl's daughter,
Perhaps I am nane;
But whan ye gat me in free forest
Ye might ha latten's alane.

29

‘Well mat this mill be,
And well mat the gae!
Mony a day they ha filled me pock
O the white meal and the gray.’

30

‘I wiss I had druken water,’ he says,
‘When I drank the ale,
That ony cerl's daughter
Sud tell me sick a tale.’

31

‘Perhaps I am a cerl's daughter,
Perhaps I am nane;
But whan ye gat me in free forest
Ye might ha latten's alane.

32

‘Tak awa yer siller spoons,
Tak awa fra me,
An gae me the gude horn spoons,
It's what I'm used tee.

33

‘O an my mukle dish wer here,
And sine we hit were fu,
I wud sup file I am saerd,
And sine lay down me head and sleep wi ony sow.’

34

‘I wiss I had druken water,’ he says,
‘Whan I drank the ale,
That any cerl's daughter
Sud tell me sick a tale.’

35

‘Perhaps I am a cerl's daughter,
Perhaps I am nane,
But whan ye gat me in free forest,
Ye might ha latten's alane.’

36

He took his hat in oer his face,
The tear blindit his ee;
She threw back her yellow locks,
And a light laughter leugh she.

37

‘Bot an ye be a beggar geet,
As I trust well ye be,
Whar gat ye their fine clothing
Yer body was covered we?’

38

‘My mother was an ill woman,
And an ill woman was she;
She gat them [OMITTED]
Fra sic chaps as thee.’

39

Whan bells were rung, and mess was sung,
And aa man bound to bed,
Earl Richard and the carl's daughter
In a chamer were laid.

40

‘Lie yont, lie yont, ye carl's daughter,
Yer hot skin burns me;
It sets na carl's daughters
In earls' beds to be.’

41

‘Perhaps I am a carl's daughter,
Perhaps I am nane;
But whan ye gat me in free forest
Ye might ha latten's alane.’

42

Up it starts the Belly Blin,
Just at their bed-feet.

43

‘I think it is a meet marrige
Atween the taen and the tither,
The Earl of Hertford's ae daughter
And the Queen of England's brither.’

44

‘An this be the Earl of Hertford's ae daughter,
As I trust well it be,
Mony a gude horse ha I ridden
For the love o thee.’

THE KNIGHT AND SHEPHERD'S DAUGHTER—N

1

Ther was a sheperd's daughter
Keeped hogs upon yon hill,
An by came [t]her a gentell knight,
An he wad haa his will.


2

Fan his will
Of her he had taiin,
‘Kind sir, for your curtisy,
Will ye tell me yer name?’

3

‘Some they caa me Joke,
An some caa me John,
Bat fan I am in our king's court
Hichkoke is my name.’

4

The lady bieng well book-read
She spealled it our agen:
‘Hichkoke in Latin
Is Earl Richerd att heam.’

5

He patt his liag out-our his stead
An to the gate has gain;
She kilted up her green clathing
An fast folloued she.

6

‘Turn back, ye carl's dother,
An dinnë follou me;
It setts no carl's dothers
King's courts to see.’

7

‘Perhaps I am a carle's dother,
Perhaps I am nean,
Bat fan ye gat me in free forest
Ye sud haa latten alean.’

8

Fan they came to yon wan water
That a' man cas Clide,
He luked our his left shoulder,
Says, Fair maid, will ye ride?

9

‘I learned it in my mother's bour,
I watt I learned it well,
Fan I came to wan water
To soum as dos the eall.

10

‘I learned it in my mother's bour,
I wiss I had learned it better,
Fan I came to wan watter
To sume as dos the otter.’

11

She touk a golden comb,
Combed out her yallou hear,
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

12

‘Far gatt ye that, ye carl's dother,
I pray ye tell to me;’
‘I gatt it fra my mither,’ she says,
‘To begulle sick sparks as ye.’

13

‘Gin ye be a carl's gett,
As I trou well ye be,
Far gatt ye a' that fine clothing,
To cloath yer body we?’

14

‘My mother was an ill woman,
An ill woman was she,
An she gatt a' that fine clathing,
Frae sick chaps as ye.’

15

Fan they came to our king's court,
She fell lou doun on her knee:
‘Win up, ye fair may,
What may ye want we me?’
‘Ther is a knight in your court
This day has robbed me.’

16

‘Has he robbed you of your goud?
Or of your whit monie?
Or of your meadnhead,
The flour of your body?’

17

‘He has no robbed me of my goud,
Nor yet of my fiee,
Bat he has robed me of my madinhead,
The flour of my body.’

18

‘Wad ye keen the knight,
If ye did him see?’
‘I wad keen him well by his well-fared face
An the blieth blink of his eay.’
An sighan says the king,
I wiss it binë my brother Richie!

19

The king called on his merry men a',
By an, by tua, by three;
Earl Richerd had ay ben the first,
Bat the last man was he.

20

By that ye might a well kent
The gulty man was he;
She took him by the hand,
Says, That same is hee.

21

Ther was a brand laid doun to her,
A brand batt an a ring,
Three times she minted to the brand,
Bat she took up the ring;
A' that was in the court
'S counted her a wise woman.

22

‘I will gee ye five hundred pound,
To make yer marrage we,
An ye gie hame, ye carl's dother,
An fash na mare we me.’

23

‘Ye keep yer five hundred pound,
To make yer marreg we,
For I will ha nathing bat yer sell,
The king he promised me.’

24

‘I ill gee ye a thousand poun,
To make yer marrage we,
An ye gae hame, ye carl's gett,
An fash na mare we me.’

25

‘Ye keep yer thousand pound,
To make yer marreg we,
For I ill ha nathing batt yer sell,
The king he promised me.’

26

He toke her doun
An clothed her in green;
Fan she cam up,
She was fairer then the quin.

27

Fan they gaid to Mary Kirk,
The nettels grue by dike:
‘O gin my midder war hear,
Sai clean as she wad them peak!’

28

He drue his hat out-our his eayn,
The tear blinded his eay;
She drue back her yallou loaks,
An a light laughter luke she.

29

Fan she came by yon mill-toun,
[OMITTED]
‘O well may the mill goo,
An well matt she be!
For aften ha ye filled my poke
We the whit meall an the gray.’

30

‘I wiss I had druken the water
Fan I drank the aill,
Or any carl's dother
Suld ha tald me siken a teall.’

31

‘Perhaps I am a carl's dother,
Perhaps I am nean;


Fan ye gatt me in frie forest,
Ye sud ha latten alean.
[OMITTED]

32

‘Take awa yer silver spons,
Far awa fra me,
An ye gee me t[he] ram-horn [s]pons,
Them I am best used we.

33

‘Ye take awa yer tabel-cloths,
Far awa fra me,
An ye gee me a mukell dish
I am best used we.

34

‘For if I had my mukel dish hear,
An sayn an it war fou,
I wad sup till I war sared,
An sayn lay doun my head an slep like ony sou.

35

‘Ye take away yer hollan shits,
Far awa fra me,
An ye bring me a cannas,
It's the thing I ben eased we.’

36

Fan bells wer rung, an mess was sung,
An a' man boun to bed,
Earl Richerd an the carl's dother
In a bed [were laid].

37

‘Lay yond, lay yond, ye carl's dother,
Your hot skin [OMITTED] me;
It setts na carl's dothers
In earls' beds to be.’

38

‘Perhaps I am a carl's dother,
Perhaps I am nean;
Bat fan ye gat me in free forest
Ye might a latten alean.’

39

Up starts the Bellie Blind,
Att ther bed-head:
‘I think it is a meatt marrage
Betuen the ane an the eather,
The Earl of Heartfourds ae daughter
An the Quien of England's brother.’

40

‘If this be the Earl of Heartfourd's ae doughter,
As I trust well it be,
Mony a gued hors have I redden
For the love of the.’

THE KNIGHT AND SHEPHERD'S DAUGHTER—O

[_]

Kidson's Traditional Tunes, p. 20, from Mr Benjamin Holgate, Leeds.

1

There was a shepherd's daughter
Who kept sheep on yon hill;
There came a young man riding by,
Who swore he'd have his will.
Fol lol lay
Fol lol di diddle lol di day

2

He took her by the lilly-white hand
And by her silken sleeve,

3

Or tell to me your name.

4

‘Oh, some they call me Jack, sweetheart,
And some they call me Will,
But when I ride the king's high-gate
My name is Sweet William.’

4

But name.

THE KNIGHT AND SHEPHERD'S DAUGHTER—P

[_]

Findlay's MSS, I, 208, from Mr McKenzie, Advie, Morayshire.

1

'Tis said a shepherd's ae daughter
Kept sheep upon a hill,
An by there cam a courteous knight,
An he wad hae his will.

2

He's taen her by the milk-white hand
An by the grass-green sleeve,
He's laid her doon at the fit o a bush,
An neer ance speired her leave.

478

111
CROW AND PIE

CROW AND PIE

[_]

MS. Rawlinson, C. 813, fol. 27 b, beginning of the sixteenth century. Halliwell's Nugæ Poeticæ, p. 42.

1

Throughe a forest as I can ryde,
To take my sporte yn an mornyng,
I cast my eye on euery syde,
I was ware of a bryde syngynge.

2

I sawe a faire mayde come rydyng;
I speke to hur of loue, I trowe;
She answered me all yn scornyng,
And sayd, The crowe shall byte yow.

3

‘I pray yow, damesell, scorne me nott;
To wyn your loue ytt ys my wyll;
For your loue I haue dere bought,
And I wyll take good hede thertyll.’

4

‘Nay, for God, ser, that I nyll;
I tell the, Jenken, as I trowe,
Thow shalt nott fynde me suche a gyll;
Therfore the crowe shall byte yow.’

5

He toke then owt a good golde ryng,
A purse of velweytt, that was soo fyne:
‘Haue ye thys, my dere swetyng,
With that ye wylbe lemman myn.’

6

‘Be Cryst, I dare nott, for my dame,
To dele with hym þat I doo nott knowe;
For soo I myght dyspyse my name;
Therfore the crow shall byte yow.’

7

He toke hur abowte the mydell small,
That was soo faire of hyde and hewe;
He kyssed hur cheke as whyte as whall,
And prayed hur þat she wolde vpon hym rewe.

8

She scornyd hym, and callyd hym Hew;
His loue was as a paynted blowe:
‘To-day me, to-morowe a newe;
Therfore the crow shall byte yow.’

9

He toke hur abowte the mydell small,
And layd hur downe vpon the grene;
Twys or thrys he served hur soo withall,
He wolde nott stynt yet, as I wene.

10

‘But sythe ye haue i-lyen me bye,
Ye wyll wedde me now, as I trowe:’
‘I wyll be aduysed, Gyll,’ sayd he,
‘For now the pye hathe peckyd yow.’

11

‘But sythe ye haue i-leyn me by,
And brought my body vnto shame,
Some of your good ye wyll part with me,
Or elles, be Cryst, ye be to blame.’

12

‘I wylbe aduysed,’ he sayde;
‘Þe wynde ys wast þat thow doyst blowe;
I haue a-noder þat most be payde;
Therfore the pye hathe pecked yow.’

13

‘Now sythe ye haue i-leyn me bye,
A lyttle thyng ye wyll tell;

479

In case that I with chylde be,
What ys your name? Wher doo ye dwell?’

14

‘At Yorke, at London, at Clerkenwell,
At Leycester, Cambryge, at myrye Brystowe;
Some call me Rychard, Robart, Jacke, and Wyll;
For now the pye hathe peckyd yow.

15

‘But, all medons, be ware be rewe,
And lett no man downe yow throwe;
For and yow doo, ye wyll ytt rewe,
For then þe pye wyll pecke yow.’

16

‘Farewell, corteor, ouer the medoo,
Pluke vp your helys, I yow beshrew!
Your trace, wher so euer ye ryde or goo,
Crystes curse goo wythe yow!

17

‘Thoughe a knave hathe by me layne,
Yet am I noder dede nor slowe;
I trust to recouer my harte agayne,
And Crystes curse goo wythe yow!’

112
THE BAFFLED KNIGHT


483

The Over Courteous Knight

THE BAFFLED KNIGHT—A

[_]

a. Ravenscroft's Deuteromelia, or, The Second Part of Musick's Melodie, or Melodious Musicke, etc., E 4, London, 1609. Ritson's Ancient Songs, 1790, p. 159. b. Pills to Purge Melancholy, III, 37, 1719.

1

Yonder comes a courteous knight,
Lustely raking ouer the lay;
He was well ware of a bonny lasse,
As she came wandring ouer the way.
Then she sang downe a downe, hey downe derry (bis)

2

‘Ioue you speed, fayre lady,’ he said,
‘Among the leaues that be so greene;
If I were a king, and wore a crowne,
Full soone, fair lady, shouldst thou be a queen.

3

‘Also Ioue saue you, faire lady,
Among the roses that be so red;
If I haue not my will of you,
Full soone, faire lady, shall I be dead.’

4

Then he lookt east, then hee lookt west,
Hee lookt north, so did he south;
He could not finde a priuy place,
For all lay in the diuel's mouth.

5

‘If you will carry me, gentle sir,
A mayde vnto my father's hall,
Then you shall haue your will of me,
Vnder purple and vnder paule.’

6

He set her vp vpon a steed,
And him selfe vpon another,
And all the day he rode her by,
As though they had been sister and brother.

7

When she came to her father's hall,
It was well walled round about;
She yode in at the wicket-gate,
And shut the foure-eard foole without.

8

‘You had me,’ quoth she, ‘abroad in the field,
Among the corne, amidst the hay,
Where you might had your will of mee,
For, in good faith, sir, I neuer said nay.

9

‘Ye had me also amid the field,
Among the rushes that were so browne,
Where you might had your will of me,
But you had not the face to lay me downe.’

10

He pulled out his nut-browne sword,
And wipt the rust off with his sleeue,
And said, Ioue's curse come to his heart
That any woman would beleeue!

11

When you haue your owne true-loue
A mile or twaine out of the towne,
Spare not for her gay clothing,
But lay her body flat on the ground.

484

THE BAFFLED KNIGHT—B

[_]

Pills to Purge Melancholy, V, 112, 1719.

1

There was a knight, and he was young,
A riding along the way, sir,
And there he met a lady fair,
Among the cocks of hay, sir.

2

Quoth he, Shall you and I, lady,
Among the grass lye down a?
And I will have a special care
Of rumpling of your gown a.

3

‘If you will go along with me
Unto my father's hall, sir,
You shall enjoy my maidenhead,
And my estate and all, sir.’

4

So he mounted her on a milk-white steed,
Himself upon another,
And then they rid upon the road,
Like sister and like brother.

5

And when she came to her father's house,
Which was moated round about, sir,
She stepped streight within the gate,
And shut this young knight out, sir.

6

‘Here is a purse of gold,’ she said,
‘Take it for your pains, sir;
And I will send my father's man
To go home with you again, sir.

7

‘And if you meet a lady fair,
As you go thro the next town, sir,
You must not fear the dew of the grass,
Nor the rumpling of her gown, sir.

8

‘And if you meet a lady gay,
As you go by the hill, sir,
If you will not when you may,
You shall not when you will, sir.’

The Baffled Knight, or, The Lady's Policy; or, The Lady's Policy, or, The Baffled Knight

THE BAFFLED KNIGHT—C

[_]

a. A Collection of Old Ballads, III, 178, 1725. b. Pepys Ballads, V, 169 ff, Nos 162-164, end of the 17th century, the first fifty stanzas. c. Douce Ballads, III, fol. 52 b, Durham: Printed and sold by I. Lane. d. Roxburghe Ballads, III, 674, 1750 (?).

1

There was a knight was drunk with wine
A riding along the way, sir,
And there he did meet with a lady fine,
And among the cocks of hay, sir.

2

One favour he did crave of her,
And askd her to lay her down, sir,
But he had neither cloth nor sheet,
To keep her from the ground, sir.

3

‘There is a great dew upon the grass,
And if you shoud lay me down, sir,
You would spoil my gay clothing,
That has cost me many a pound, sir.’

4

‘I have a cloak of scarlet red,
I'll lay it under you, love,
So you will grant me my request
That I shall ask of you, love.’

5

‘And if you'll go to my father's hall,
That is moated all round about. sir,
There you shall have your will of me,
Within, sir, and without, sir.

6

‘Oh yonder stands my milk-white steed,
And among the cocks of hay, sir;
If the king's pinner should chance to come.
He'll take my steed away, sir.’

7

‘I have a ring upon my finger,
It's made of the finest gold, love,
And it shall serve to fetch your steed
Out of the pinner's fold, love.’

8

‘And if you'll go to my father's house,
Round which there's many a tree, sir,
There you shall have your chamber free,
And your chamberlain I'll be, sir.’

9

He sate her on a milk-white steed,
Himself upon another,
And then they rid along the way,
Like sister and like brother.

10

But when she came to her father's house,
Which was moated all round about, sir,
She slipd herself within the gate,
And she lockd the knight without, sir.

485

11

‘I thank you, kind knight, for seeing me here,
And bringing me home a maiden, sir,
But you shall have two of my father's men
For to set you as far back again, sir.’

12

He drew his sword out of his scabbard,
And whet it upon his sleeve, sir,
Saying, Cursed be to evry man
That will a maid believe, sir!

13

She drew her handkerchief out of her pocket,
And threw it upon the ground, sir,
Saying, Thrice cursed be to evry maid
That will believe a man, sir!

14

We have a tree in our garden,
Some call it of rosemary, sir;
There's crowing-cocks in our town,
That will make a capon of you, sir.

15

We have a flower in our garden,
Some call it a marygold, sir,
And he that would not when he might,
He shall not when he would, sir.

16

But if you chance for to meet a maid,
A little below the town, sir,
You must not fear her gay cloathing,
Nor the wrinkling of her gown, sir.

17

And if you chance for to meet a maid,
A little below the hill, sir,
You need not fear her screeking out,
For she quickly will lye still, sir.

18

The baffld knight was by the lass
Ingeniously outwitted,
And since that time it came to pass
He was again well fitted.

19

As he was riding cross a plain,
In boots, spurs, hat and feather,
He met that lady fair again;
They talkd a while together.

20

He said, Tho you did serve me so,
And cunningly decoy me,
Yet now, before you further go,
I must and will enjoy thee.

21

'Twas near a spacious river's side,
Where rushes green were growing,
And Neptune's silver streams did glide,
Four fathom waters flowing.

22

The lady blushd like scarlet red,
And trembled at this stranger:
‘How shall I guard my maidenhead
From this approaching danger!’

23

With a lamenting sigh, said she,
To dye I now am ready;
Must this dishonour fall on me?
A most unhappy lady!

24

He from his saddle did alight,
In gaudy rich attire,
And cried, I am a noble knight,
Who do your charms admire.

25

He took the lady by the hand,
Who seemingly consented,
And woud no more disputing stand:
She had a plot invented

26

How she might baffle him again,
With much delight and pleasure,
And eke unspotted still remain,
With her pure virgin treasure.

27

‘Look yonder, good sir knight, I pray:
Methinks I do discover,
Well mounted on a dapple-grey,
My true, entire lover.’

28

The knight, he standing on the brink
Of the deep floating river,
Thought she, Thou now shalt swim or sink;
Choose which you fancy rather.

29

Against his back the lady run;
The waters strait he sounded;
He cry'd out, Love, what have you done!
Help! help! or I am drowned.

30

Said she, Sir knight, farewel, adieu;
You see what comes of fooling;
That is the fittest place for you,
Whose courage wanted cooling.

31

‘Love, help me out, and I'll forgive
This fault which you've committed;’
‘No, no,’ says she, ‘sir, as I live,
I think you're finely fitted.’

486

32

She rid home to her father's house,
For speedy expedition,
While the gay knight was soakd like souce,
In a sad wet condition.

33

When he came mounted to the plain
He was in rich attire,
Yet when he back returnd again
He was all muck and mire.

34

A solemn vow he there did make,
Just as he came from swiming,
He'd love no lady, for her sake,
Nor any other women.

35

The baffld knight was foold once more,
You'll find by this pleasant ditty,
For she whose charms he did adore
Was wonderful sharp and witty.

36

Returning from her father's park,
Just close by a summer bower,
She chanc'd to meet her angry spark,
Who gave her a frowning lower.

37

The thoughts of what she twice had done
Did cause him to draw his rapier,
And at the lady then he run,
And thus he began to vapour:

38

‘You chousd me at your father's gate,
Then tumbld me into the river;
I seek for satisfaction straight,
Shall I be a fool forever?’

39

He came with resolution bent
That evening to enjoy her,
And if she did not give consent,
That minute he would destroy her.

40

‘I pray, sir knight, and why so hot
Against a young silly woman?
Such crimes as these might be forgot;
For merry intrigues are common.’

41

‘What! do you count it mirth,’ he cry'd,
‘To tumble me in and leave me?
What if I drowned there had dy'd?
A dangerous jest, believe me.

42

‘Well, if I pardon you this day
Those injuries out of measure,
It is because without delay
I mean to enjoy the pleasure.’

43

‘Your suit,’ she said, ‘is not deny'd,
But think of your boots of leather,
And let me pull them off,’ she cry'd,
‘Before we lye down together.’

44

He set him down upon the grass,
And violets so sweet and tender;
Now by this means it came to pass
That she did his purpose hinder.

45

For having pulld his boots half-way,
She cry'd, I am now your betters;
You shall not make of me your prey;
Sit there, like a thief in fetters.

46

Now finding she had servd him so,
He rose and began to grumble;
Yet he could neither stand nor go,
But did like a cripple tumble.

47

The boots stuck fast, and would not stir;
His folly she soon did mention,
And laughing said, I pray, kind sir,
How like you my new invention?

48

My laughing fit you must excuse;
You are but a stingless nettle;
You'd neer a stood for boots or shooes,
Had you been a man of mettle.

49

Farewel, sir knight, 't is almost ten;
I fear neither wind nor weather;
I'll send my father's serving-men
To pull off your boots of leather.

50

She laughd outright, as well she might,
With merry conceits of scorning,
And left him there to sit all night,
Untill the approaching morning.

51

The fourth part of the baffld knight
The lady hath fairly acted;
She did his love and kindness slight,
Which made him almost distracted.

52

She left him in her father's park,
Where nothing but deer could hear him;
While he lay rouling in the dark,
There's never a soul came near him.

53

Until the morning break of day,
And being warm summer weather,
A shepherd chanc'd to come that way,
Who pulld on his boots of leather.

487

54

Then mounting on his milk-white steed,
He, shaking his ears, was ready,
And whip and spur he rid with speed
To find out this crafty lady.

55

‘If once this lady I come nigh
She shall be releasd by no man:
Why shoud so brave a knight as I
Be foold by a silly woman!

56

‘Three times she has affronted me,
In crimes which I cannot pardon;
But if I an't revengd,’ said he,
‘Let me not be worth a farthing.

57

‘I value not her beauty fair,
Tho once I did dote upon her;
This trusty sword shall now repair
My baffled, blasted honour.’

58

Unto her father's house he came,
Which every side was moated;
The fair sweet youthful charming dame,
His angry brows she noted.

59

Thought she, I'll have the other bout,
And tumble him in the river;
And let the Devil help him out,
Or there he shall soak for ever.

60

He will not let me live at rest,
Although I have often foild him;
Therefore once more, I do protest,
With flattering I'll beguile him.

61

The bridge was drawn, the gates lockd fast,
So that he could no ways enter;
She smil'd to him, and cry'd at last,
Sir knight, if you please to venture,

62

A plank lies over the moat hard by,
Full seventeen foot in measure;
There's no body now at home but I;
Therefore we'll take our pleasure.

63

This word she had no sooner spoke,
But straight he was tripping over;
The plank was sawd, and snapping broke;
He provd an unhappy lover.

The Shepherd's Son; or, Blow the Winds, Heigh ho!

THE BAFFLED KNIGHT—D

[_]

a. Herd's Ancient and Modern Scots, p. 328, 1769. b. Dixon, Ancient Poems, Ballads and Songs of the Peasantry of England, p. 123, Percy Society, vol. xvii; Bell, p. 80.

1

There was a shepherd's son
Kept sheep upon a hill;
He laid his pipe and crook aside,
And there he slept his fill.
Sing, Fal deral, etc.

2

He looked east, he looked west,
Then gave an under-look,
And there he spyed a lady fair,
Swimming in a brook.

3

He raisd his head frae his green bed,
And then approachd the maid;
‘Put on your claiths, my dear,’ he says,
‘And be ye not afraid.

4

‘'Tis fitter for a lady fair
To sew her silken seam
Than to get up in a May morning
And strive against the stream.’

5

‘If you'll not touch my mantle,
And let my claiths alane,
Then I'll give you as much money
As you can carry hame.’

6

‘O I'll not touch your mantle,
And I'll let your claiths alane;
But I'll tak you out of the clear water,
My dear, to be my ain.’

7

And when she out of the water came,
He took her in his arms:
‘Put on your claiths, my dear,’ he says,
‘And hide those lovely charms.’

8

He mounted her on a milk-white steed,
Himself upon anither,
And all along the way they rode,
Like sister and like brither.

9

When she came to her father's yate
She tirled at the pin,
And ready stood the porter there,
To let this fair maid in.

488

10

And when the gate was opened,
So nimbly's she whipt in;
‘Pough! you're a fool without,’ she says,
‘And I'm a maid within.

11

‘Then fare ye well, my modest boy,
I thank you for your care;
But had you done what you should do,
I neer had left you there.’

12

‘Oh I'll cast aff my hose and shoon,
And let my feet gae bare,
And gin I meet a bonny lass,
Hang me if her I spare.’

13

‘In that do as you please,’ she says,
‘But you shall never more
Have the same opportunity;’
With that she shut the door.

14

There is a gude auld proverb,
I've often heard it told,
He that would not when he might,
He should not when he would.

The Knight and Lady

THE BAFFLED KNIGHT—E

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 410: from the singing of Agnes Lyle, Kilbarchan, September, 1825.

1

There was a knight, was drunk with wine,
Came riding along the way, sir;
He would have had a lady gay
Amang the quiles of hay, sir.

2

‘What if I should lay thee down,
Amang the quiles of hay, maid?
Sheets nor blankets have I none,
To keep thy cloathing clean, maid.’

3

‘The wind blaws east, the wind blaws west,
The wind blaws owre yon thorn, sir;
Weel may I wash my cloathing clear,
And dry them on the morn, sir.’

4

‘What if I should lay thee down,
Amang the rigs of corn, maid?
Then the king's life-guard will come,
And steal our steeds away, maid.’

5

‘I have ten gold rings on my hand,
They're all gold but the stone, sir;
I'll give them to the king's life-guard,
If he'll let our steeds alone, sir.

6

‘But see you not yon sunny bank,
Over yon lily lea, sir,
Where you and I may crack a while,
And never one may see, sir?’

7

He was on a milk-white steed,
And she was on another,
And all the live-long winter night
They rode like sister and brother.

8

When they came to that sunny bank,
He began to lay her down, sir;
‘O no, O no, kind sir,’ she says,
‘Ye'll ruffle all my gown, sir.

9

‘My gown it cost my father dear,
'Twas many a mark and pound, sir;
And if that ye do lay me down,
Ye'll ruffle all my gown, sir.

10

‘But see ye na yon fair castel,
Over yon lily lea, sir,
Where you and I may crack a while,
And never one may see, sir?’

11

He was on a milk-white steed,
And she was on another,
And all the live-long winter night
They rode like sister and brother.

12

When they came to that fair castel,
She was at her father's yet, sir;
She jumped in at her father's door,
And left this knight without, sir.

13

She says, I am a maid within,
You're but a knave without, sir;
There were neer a butcher's son
Put me in so much doubt, sir.

14

‘Oh if I had thee out,’ he said,
‘But two miles from the town, maid,
I would lay thee down,’ he said,
‘And never mind thy gown, maid.’

15

‘There is a flower in my father's garden,
The name o't marigold, sir,
And he that would not when he might,
He shall not when he wold, sir.

16

‘But when eer ye meet a pretty maid,
And two miles from a town, sir,
Ye may lay her down,’ she says,
‘And never mind her gown, sir.

489

17

‘Ye're like unto my father's steed;
He's standing in the lone, sir;
He hings his head above the sheaf,
But daur not venture on, sir.

18

‘When eer ye meet a pretty maid,
And two miles from the town, sir,
Ye may lay her down,’ she says,
‘And never mind her gown, sir.

19

‘There is a cock in my father's flock,
He wears a double comb, sir,
He claps his wings, but craweth not;
I fear you be like him, sir.

20

‘But when eer you meet a pretty maid,
And two miles from a town, sir,
You may lay her down,’ she said,
‘And never mind her gown, sir.’

494

113
THE GREAT SILKIE OF SULE SKERRY

THE GREAT SILKIE OF SULE SKERRY

[_]

Proceedings of The Society of Antiquaries of Scotland, I, 86, 1852. Communicated by the late Captain F. W. L. Thomas, R. N.; written down by him from the dictation of a venerable lady of Snarra Voe, Shetland.

1

An eartly nourris sits and sings,
And aye she sings, Ba, lily wean!
Little ken I my bairnis father,
Far less the land that he staps in.

2

Then ane arose at her bed-fit,
An a grumly guest I'm sure was he:
‘Here am I, thy bairnis father,
Although that I be not comelie.

3

‘I am a man, upo the lan,
An I am a silkie in the sea;
And when I'm far and far frae lan,
My dwelling is in Sule Skerrie.’

4

‘It was na weel,’ quo the maiden fair,
‘It was na weel, indeed,’ quo she,
‘That the Great Silkie of Sule Skerrie
Suld hae come and aught a bairn to me.’

5

Now he has taen a purse of goud,
And he has pat it upo her knee,
Sayin, Gie to me my little young son,
An tak thee up thy nourris-fee.

6

An it sall come to pass on a simmer's day,
When the sin shines het on evera stane,
That I will tak my little young son,
An teach him for to swim the faem.

7

An thu sall marry a proud gunner,
An a proud gunner I'm sure he'll be,
An the very first schot that ere he schoots,
He'll schoot baith my young son and me.